My Soul Can Reach
by purseplayer
Summary: In a world that allows no place for homosexuality, those whose soulmate's names are of the same sex must hide or endure rehabilitation. Kurt is one of the lucky ones but still lives with the painful realization that he will never be with his soulmate - until he begins work at McKinley Prison and meets an inmate with a familiar name. AU, soulmate! fic.
1. Prologue: Broken

**_Prologue: Broken_**

Burt Hummel had never been the type of father to worry. When his only son had first been placed in his arms, he had gazed down at the squirming, wailing bundle in wonder, counting ten fingers, ten toes, and assuring that all else was in order. That was enough and all was well.

He looked back up at his wife, flushed and sweaty from labor but still, in his eyes, overwhelmingly beautiful. "What are we gonna name him?"

"I was thinking of Kurt," she replied after a moment. Burt instantly conjured up an image of her favorite VonTrapp child in his mind. "Even his cries are like music."

Burt smiled. "Kurt Elizabeth Hummel," he announced proudly, "welcome to the world. It's got its problems, but its sure to love _you." _ He paused for a moment before softly adding "I know I do."

* * *

For the first few years, Burt was proven right. Kurt was a happy, bubbly child, finding delight in nearly everything. He had a particular affinity for following his father around his repair shop as soon as he could walk, pointing to each vehicle and exclaiming "Ka!" He squealed loudly when he received his first toy truck for his second birthday, and spent the entire afternoon pushing it around the house. Burt couldn't be more pleased.

As predicted, Kurt also loved all things musical. He would happily run through the house singing bits of songs he had learned on the radio, the tv, or from his mother. Elizabeth insisted they indulge his interest with piano and voice lessons when he was four years old. It was unusual for a boy, but not unheard of, and Burt thought that he would never get enough of hearing his son's clear, joyful voice.

When Kurt turned seven, Burt and Elizabeth managed to save up enough money to take him to see a musical, _Beauty and the Beast_, in the nearest city. The whole family enjoyed the trip, and Kurt's eyes lit up like never before as he watched the magic unfold on stage. During the car ride home, his parents felt in turns amusement and irritation as he belted out the songs to the soundtrack he had insisted they purchase.

No, Burt Hummel had very little to worry about: he had found and married his soulmate; he had a successful business and a bright, beautiful son. And so the unpleasant shiver of fear that ran up his spine and tingled throughout his whole body took him by surprise when Kurt paused in his singing and innocently questioned "Mommy, do you think I'll have my own prince someday?"

From that day forward, worry became the ever-constant companion of Burt Hummel. Maybe it was easier than the overwhelming sadness that lurked just beneath. There were little things about Kurt, things that had slipped by him unnoticed in the past, screaming at him now. Making him wonder and question and doubt. Could his son be…? No, he couldn't bear to even think it.

A year later, when Kurt was only eight, there was an accident. Elizabeth was suddenly gone, just like that. The pain was overwhelming—emotional, physical, all that he had ever been warned about. And still he was expected to endure. He had a son to raise, a son that didn't, _couldn't_, understand why his mother was no longer there. A son that had no idea why his father was suddenly empty and broken and so, so sad.

Only maybe he did, a little. Kurt stood next to his father, watching as his mother was lowered into the ground with tear-filled eyes, when suddenly he looked up at Burt. There was something knowing under the sadness pooling there when he said to his father "she was your soulmate, wasn't she?"

"Yes," Burt replied simply. "She was my everything." And he pulled his son into a hug.

* * *

Not long after that, the questions started.

Kurt wasn't stupid. He had caught glimpses of the beautifully scripted names written on adults' hands, though people generally tried to hide them under gloves. He had noticed at a young age that his father's palm bore the name _Elizabeth Montier_, the name of his mother, and his mother's the shorter _Burt Hummel_. When he was five, it had occurred to him to ask what they meant.

His mother had smiled down at him next to the sink full of soapy dishes and caressed his cheek before responding gently "it means your father and I are soulmates, honey."

He then studied his own tiny hands, turning them over and over again as if looking for something. "Why don't I have a soulmate?" he finally asked.

Elizabeth laughed. "Don't worry, sweetheart, you'll get one when you're older."

Older apparently meant age thirteen, Kurt had soon learned, watching his cousin as friends and family congratulated him, gawking at his hand all through his thirteenth birthday party. Kurt had stolen a peak, too, and read the name _Kristina Parker_ there.

Now, Burt looked down at his curious eight year old and sighed.

"It's like this," he started awkwardly. "People aren't meant to be alone in the world, so everybody has a soulmate, one person in the world meant to…" Burt stumbled for the right words "… to complete them, I guess. When you turn thirteen, give or take a few days, a name will appear on your hand. That's your soulmate, buddy. That's the person you're meant to be with."

"But daddy, how do I find them?"

"It may take some time, but usually fate will bring them to you when it's right." _And take them away again, _he couldn't help but think sadly to himself.

Kurt seemed to contemplate this for a moment, then peered up at him fearfully. "But what if I never find them?"

Burt tensed at the question. He studied his son for a moment, his _special_, precious boy, and could think of nothing to say that. Nothing reassuring, and still true, that could ease Kurt's worry or his own.

Burt still loved his son, more than anything. He always would. But he was slowly coming to the realization that maybe the world didn't after all.

* * *

Burt knew their conversations could only get harder after that. He watched Kurt grow older, and watched as he learned more about the world around him and absorbed its painful realities. The sadness that had settled into them both after Elizabeth's death grew sharper and heavier in a slow, creeping way. They didn't talk about soulmates again for quite some time.

Then on one perfectly ordinary day, Kurt, eleven years old, walked into the shop after school. Mindless of the other workers, he slumped into his father's arms. "Dad," he said simply. And Burt _knew_.

After asking an employee to close up for the day, Burt led his son into the house and settled them at the kitchen table, pushing a cup of coffee into Kurt's hands. He knew Kurt was too young to be drinking it but could never seem to deny his son the vice that seemed a small comfort to him after his mother's death.

A few moments later, Kurt spoke. "Dad, my soulmate… they aren't going to let us be together, are they?"

Burt closed his eyes and shook his head, a pained expression on his face.

"What's going to happen to me, dad? What will they do to me when they see that my soulmate… is a boy?"

Again, silence.

"Mercedes, a girl in my class," Kurt continued, "her brother disappeared yesterday. He turned thirteen a week ago, and she saw the name on his hand… it was a boys name."

Kurt struggled to keep his voice even as his words pushed out at a speed that betrayed his inner panic. "Where did he go? Am I going to disappear too, daddy? I don't want to leave you!"

"I won't…. I won't let them…" Burt tried. But what good would it do Kurt to lie to him? He hung his head, unable to meet his son's eyes as he spoke. "There's a law, Kurt. Within a week of their birthday, every child has to show their mark to government officials. If a boy has another boy's name, or a girl has a girl's name, they're sent away. I don't know many details; I've not known anyone this has happened to personally." _ Until now_, he thought to himself. "I do know that they usually come back after a few months. But they're… _different_. And their marks are gone."

Finally he looked up, and Kurt could see that there were tears in his eyes. "I don't want that to happen to you, Kurt," Burt said with conviction, reaching for his son's hand. "We'll do everything we can. I can't lose you, too."

* * *

For the next two years, the Hummel men divided their time—searching for a solution to their impending problem and trying to avoid it.

Kurt began to hear whispers around school of a place called Dalton, a safe-haven for those who were different. He asked his dad about it, and secretively they did some research. Unfortunately, all they could learn was that Dalton did indeed exist and that it was very difficult to get to. Families with the right connections and steep pocketbooks could send their children there if they wished to spare them. Burt had neither. Kurt didn't want to go, anyway, when he realized that it wasn't a place his father was likely to be able to follow.

Kurt also got excited once after glimpsing the name "Jordan" on a football player's hand while in the locker rooms. "Jordan can be a boy's name or a girl's name," he proudly showed his father in a book of baby names he had gotten from the library. "What if my soulmate's name could be both, too?"

"I guess that could be possible," Burt answered hesitantly. "We might be able to get you by if that were the case. But Kurt, don't get your hopes up. He'll have your name too, remember. 'Kurt' is definitely a boy's name."

Watching his son's face deepen into a frown, Burt almost regretted his words. But it would do no one any good to sugarcoat.

"I'm never going to find him, dad, am I?" Kurt said quietly after a moment.

Burt sighed. "It's a cruel world kid," he said slowly. "You have no idea how much I wish it could be different for you."

Kurt crumbled, defeated, as Burt pulled him into his arms.

* * *

Kurt grew more and more melancholy as his thirteenth birthday approached. Each night was spent fixated on one worry after another. He couldn't decide what hurt more. There was the very real possibility of being separated from his father, at least for a few months. There was the unknown of what would be done to him during that time, and where he would go. _Rehabilitation,_ they called it. The very word made him shudder.

Perhaps the worst thought, however, was of the years stretching out in front of him, his entire lifetime—Alone. Empty. Incomplete. He hated what losing his mother had done to his father. How could he go on forever never knowing his other half? Already he was beginning to feel the pull towards… something. _Someone_. And oh, how it made him ache…

As fate would have it, his soulmate's name began to appear the day before his birthday. He woke up to a tingling in his left hand and peered down to see the letters beginning to take shape, half eager and half fearful. By midmorning, there it was. Kurt quickly shuffled through the baby names book, hoping to confirm…. he sighed in relief. Joyfully, he pushed the open book towards his father and pointed to the words that read:

**Blaine** – Male, Female. Pronounced _Blayne_. Irish or Gaelic in origin, meaning "yellow."

He would slip past the government. He knew without a doubt that his soulmate was a boy, but Blaine _could_ be a girl. And that's all that mattered.

* * *

By the time he went to bed that night, Kurt's elation had long faded. Without a doubt, he was relieved that he would remain with his father and would not be forced to endure rehabilitation, whatever it entailed. Still, he had come to a new, equally harsh realization about what this meant. _Hiding_. He could never be fully himself, lest anyone suspect.

He would never be with Blaine. He wondered, too, what his soulmate might be enduring right now. What tragedies might Kurt's name bring him? It pained him to even think of it.

_Blaine Anderson, I will never know you,_ he thought, tracing his fingers lovingly across his own palm.

Then he cried himself to sleep.

* * *

**Disclaimer: **In case it isn't obvious, I do not own Glee nor any of its characters.

**A/N**: The title of the prologue is the title of a song by Elisa that I felt fit this chapter. It's a beautiful song if you care to look it up. I plan to be naming each chapter after a song. Also, the story title is a line taken from the famous Elizabeth Barrett Browning poem _How Do I Love Thee?_


	2. Chapter One: Collide

**_Chapter One: Collide_**

Kurt Hummel turned the wheel of his sleek, silver coupe sharply, swinging perfectly into a parking spot. He cut the engine and sat there, breathing and trying to clear his head, before turning to stare up at the opposing facility in front of him. McKinley Prison. Not exactly what he had in mind through all those long years imagining is first real job. But he's only 23, fresh out of college, and beggars can't be choosers.

He had been told during his interview that the inmates housed here had all committed non-violent crimes: theft, drugs, a few cases of treason. That kind of thing. Nothing to be scared about, really. But then, it had never been the threat of personal harm that he feared (he had endured plenty of that in high school, despite a great amount of effort spent attempting to be invisible.) It was thoughts of the monotony of the job that made him mentally cringe. _Music Counselor_, he pondered while fingering the words written on his shiny new id badge.

Kurt had wanted to be a Broadway star, had dreamed forever of belting the classics of Patty LePone and Bernadette Peters spotlighted on a brightly lit stage. He longed to bask in the rush of energy that accompanied a crowd's standing ovation, to wrench with feeling while crooning a lover's ballad. Instead, he had settled for a degree in musical therapy with a minor in performance. A unique but still respectable choice for someone who couldn't afford to appear to the world any more feminine than he already looked and in some ways, innately acted.

So here he was. About to [attempt to] instill some miniscule appreciation for music into a bunch of prisoners, most of whom would never find use for it anyways.

Not that Kurt wasn't grateful. Giving up Broadway was a small sacrifice in light of what his life could have been, where and what he could be now. He would never forget about Dave Karofsky, the quiet, burly boy who had been the brunt of so many fat jokes throughout their elementary years. Dave had disappeared in the middle of seventh grade and hadn't reappeared for _two years_. When he showed up one day to 9th grade English class, Dave's former best friend, Jacob Bin Israel, had attempted an old joke with him to break the ice. It had been the last time Jacob had spoken to him and the last time anyone would joke. Karofsky was _mean_. He had wasted no time proving himself by joining the football team, befriending each and every jock quickly by force of sheer fear, and making everyone else's life, including Kurt's, a living hell.

Then there was Santana Lopez, who had been one of Kurt's closest friends. She had moved to town the summer before their first year of high school, and the two had slowly built up a friendship over the next four years. Santana didn't have a mark, and she wasn't afraid to advertise that, choosing to bare her palm for all to see like some kind of trophy won for conquering adversity. Santana never cared what anyone thought of her. She had been a cheerleader, Queen Bitch of the school, and determined to one day be Queen Bitch of the world. There had been rumors from time to time that she slept around, but such a thing was so shameful few of the boys would own up to it. She had certainly never tried anything with Kurt.

Kurt hadn't heard from Santana since his junior year of college, the phone calls tapering off in the typical way that calls between old friends often do. He had, however, seen her on the evening news recently. Twenty-three years old, same as Kurt, and already she was climbing the political ladder. At least someone's dreams were coming true.

Sighing dramatically, Kurt grabbed his bag and stepped out of the car. It was going to be a long day.

* * *

"…eat lunch here, the foods not too terrible, really, but I would avoid it on Thursdays. There's a vending machine, refrigerator and microwave in the break room too, if you prefer. I'll show that to you later." The curly-haired man grinned at him when he finished speaking but his expression soon dulled in enthusiasm. Perhaps he realized that it had been quite some time since Kurt had given him his full attention.

"I'll probably bring my lunch most days, Mr. Shuester, but thank you for the rundown," Kurt said, feeling slightly ashamed as he followed the man in front of him. After a few hours of paperwork and other technicalities, a tour had sounded refreshing, but he had soon grown exhausted, not realizing how big the prison truly was. He was eagerly awaiting a chance to return to the music room and small office he had been shown earlier. They hadn't even seen the main living quarters for the inmates yet, so Kurt feared it would still be quite some time.

He tried to hide his relief as he was finally led down a long corridor lined with small rooms crowded side by side to his right. They seemed to go on endlessly. Each was tiny, crammed with a small cot, a simple sink and a toilet. Currently, they were all empty. Kurt wondered where all the prisoners might be. Maybe Mr. Shuester had mentioned that, he thought, and tried to refocus himself on what the man was saying—something about which unit they were on.

They soon left the corridor and entered a much larger room, furnished with several chairs, tables, and couches along with a television and a few game tables. There were windows here, he noticed, though they were covered over with bars. Everywhere he looked were men, all dressed similarly in white t-shirts and simple brown pants. The noise level was jarring after the near-silence of the past hour, and Kurt fought the urge to cover his ears or, even worse, turn around and flee.

"This is the day room for the men," Mr. Shuester was saying. "As you can see, the inmates spend a good deal of time in here."

As the other man stepped aside for a minute to say something to one of several guards positioned around the room, Kurt took some time to study the prisoners. Most ignored his gaze as it passed over their faces, but a few made eye contact. One was a big, burly man with a crew cut whose face quickly darkened into a scowl when their eyes met, and Kurt quickly looked away. There was a tall, skinny and admittedly attractive boy—he looked almost too young to be here—leaning up against the wall; he winked and looked him up and down with a smug expression on his face. Kurt offered him a slight smile in return, though his gaze made Kurt feel decidedly uncomfortable in a way he couldn't fully place. A black man who was crouching in the corner, fiddling with a pair of dice, outright stared at him as though he wanted to pick Kurt apart to figure him out.

A beautiful man (he shouldn't think like that) with dark, curly hair caught his attention after a moment. Sitting across the table from him was a second man sporting a Mohawk, and between them was a nerdy-looking man in a wheelchair, who reached up to adjust the glasses perched awkwardly on his nose every few seconds. The three appeared to be engaged in a game of cards, laughing easily together, until Dreamy (Curly? No, that sounded even more stupid) seemed to finally feel the weight of Kurt's eyes and looked up, meeting his gaze. Kurt could not gauge the color of his eyes from this distance, but was suddenly struck with the strangest sensation of melting. He began to take a step forward when Mr. Shuester's voice jarred him away from the moment.

"Any questions, Kurt? Are you ready to move ahead?"

Forcing his eyes away from the alluring inmate, Kurt once again directed his attention to his tour guide. "No, Mr. Shuester. I mean, yes, we can continue."

Mr. Shuester chuckled understandingly. "This place is a bit overwhelming at first, I'm sure. And please, call me Will. I know there's quite the age gap between us, but you are taking over my position here and that should at least make us equals." He had already started walking towards the door, and Kurt hastened to follow.

"Why are you leaving, if you don't mind my asking?" Kurt hoped it had nothing to do with hating the job.

"Of course not, that's fine. It's quite a good reason, actually. A few weeks ago my soulmate, Emma Pillsbury, took a job here as a counselor. It's how we met." Mr… _Will_ was blushing and stuttering a little now, and despite the fact that the man was clearly upwards of thirty Kurt couldn't help but find it endearing. "The prison has a strict policy on soulmates working in the same facility, though, so one of us had to leave. I've been here over ten years now, so I figured it was time for a change."

"Congratulations on finding each other," Kurt offered, trying to ignore the stab of pain that shot through him. He didn't begrudge others their happiness, truly he didn't. It was just, well, _Blaine._ Blaine who he endlessly ached to hold close to him and forget. Blaine who filled his thoughts and dreams every day and night, and who Kurt tried hard not to think about at all.

"Thanks! She's so great, you know, especially after waiting so long. I'll have to introduce the two of you a little later."

"Do you have another job lined up yet?" Kurt inquired, hoping to change the subject.

"Actually, I've accepted a position at a local school…."

Will continued to talk happily about his new job and Emma for the remainder of the tour, which consisted primarily of a gym, a few more offices and women's quarters that were similar to the men's. As promised, Kurt did indeed get to meet the woman of Will's fixation, who turned out to be an attractive, petite redhead with a pleasantly sweet disposition. They chatted for a bit about the government's ability to manage and discourage criminal activity which, they both agreed, was handled pretty well, although the crime rate had been climbing ever-so-slightly and inexplicably over past decades. Kurt thought that he would like working with Emma very much.

Over an hour later, Kurt gratefully sunk down in his new office chair, exhausted, and began to make plans for the week ahead. Mostly, his plans consisted of sitting in on the groups and sessions that he would soon be taking over. They most certainly _did not_ include learning Dreamy's real name, or any attempt at contact with him whatsoever.

* * *

As luck would have it, however, Dreamy appeared again the very next day, apparently a partaker in the therapeutic music group Kurt would soon be leading. Mohawk and Glasses (Wheels had come to mind first, but Kurt had decided that would be rude, even if only in his head) were there also, along with over a dozen others, male and female both. A lone guard stood solemnly by the doorway.

Kurt sat next to Will in one of numerous chairs that formed a large circle spanning the room. He vaguely remembered something from one of his psychology classes about how sitting made those you were helping feel that you were less threatening and more of an equal. While that may be true, it certainly didn't encourage any level of comfort for Kurt, especially given that the majority of those sharing the room with him were criminals. He eyed one particularly vicious looking blonde woman who seemed to be glaring at him while twirling a sharp pencil round and round warily.

Will cleared his throat loudly, and after only a few moments the conversation in the room dwindled to an end. _Well, at least they're all attentive_, Kurt thought to himself, hoping he would be able to command a similar level of respect on his own the following week.

"Guys, I hope you're all doing well this week," Will began. "As you know, I'll be leaving you shortly due to my new relationship with Miss Pillsbury." A few snorts and chuckles were heard at this (Mohawk called out "Way to go Shuester!") and Kurt wondered if there was more of a story there than he'd been informed of. "This is Kurt Hummel—"he gestured to Kurt in the seat next to him, and Kurt tried to smile a little—"He'll be taking over for me next week."

Looking around the room, Kurt tried to weigh the reactions of those around him. Blondie was no longer glaring at him, but instead looked bored. A few people were studying him suspiciously. A few more were nodding slowly, and a couple actually smiled.

And then there was Dreamy. Kurt couldn't quite place the expression on his face. His mouth had dropped open a little as though in shock, and his eyes were widened similarly, but the mysterious quality that had felt like melting the day before was still there. Their eyes met only briefly this time, however, before the other man turned his head away. Interesting.

Kurt continued his visual trip around the circle before glancing back at Will, who indicated nonverbally that it was now his turn to speak.

"Well, guys, it's nice to meet you all," Kurt started a little awkwardly. "I hope you'll be patient with me through this transition, and we can figure things out together. If you don't mind, I'd like to start by going around the circle and having each of you introduce yourself. In addition to your name, I'd like to know why you chose to participate in this group, what type of music you like best and which instruments you play, if any.

I'll go first. As Mr. Shuester said, my name is Kurt Hummel. You can call me Mr. Hummel or just Kurt, whatever you feel most comfortable with. I prefer Broadway and big band music, but also enjoy your standard top 40. I play the piano, the guitar, and the flute. I also sing."

Kurt looked at the woman next to him expectantly, and then listened as she talked about playing the clarinet in her high school band and her love of jazz. He tried to stay attentive as each person continued in turn, but found himself frequently distracted by Dreamy, who appeared to have recovered from whatever surprise he had experienced and had resumed his visual digestion of Kurt with a new intensity, and if Kurt wasn't mistaken, _determination_ in his eyes. Kurt resisted the urge to shrink back into his chair, and began to feel increasingly nervous as the man's turn to speak grew closer with each passing moment.

Mohawk's turn came just before Dreamy's. "The name is Puck," he announced cockily, offering no more than that. Will, who seemed to have expected this, was already leaning closer to Kurt to whisper "Noah Puckerman" into his ear. "I'm in this group because it's not as lame as chess club and not as prissy as art. I used to play guitar, and I guess I like rock music." Puck punctuated this last part with a glare at a blonde man a few chairs down, who had a minute before been the first in the group to admit to liking country music.

Realizing the man would say no more, Kurt slid his gaze slowly over to Dreamy, only to be met again with the stunning intensity of his eyes. They were light brown, he suddenly realized. The color of honey.

They bore into him for what seemed to be forever before Dreamy, finally and unexpectedly, began to speak.

"Kurt," he said, no, _commanded_. "My name is Blaine Anderson."

In that moment, Kurt Hummel felt the entirety of the world melting away into a puddle at his feet.

* * *

**A/N**: This chapter's title is taken from the song "Collide" by Howie Day. Thanks for reading :-)


	3. Chapter Two: Come to My Window

**_Chapter Two: Come To My Window _**

Amazingly, Kurt managed to find his way back to reality in time to learn that Blaine's favorite music was classical and top 40, and that Blaine played the piano, and that Blaine could sing.

Of course he could. Blaine. Kurt's _soulmate._

Kurt thought he ought to feel relieved, ecstatic, excited—any and all of the above. But mostly what he did feel was overwhelmed. He had spent the past twelve years living with the harsh reality that he would live and die alone, certain that he would never know the kind of love that was the most basic of human rights. Natural cynic that he was, Kurt couldn't, wouldn't allow himself even the slimmest of hopes because he knew the eventual fall-out would completely break him.

And now, here Blaine was. Kurt could see him, breathe him, know in a new way that he existed… and, well, that was _everything_.

They hadn't even spoken yet, but Kurt knew that Blaine would find a way to come to him. He was so obviously full of confidence and courage and determination. Blaine was everything that Kurt would have decided his partner needed to be, should he have ever allowed himself to dwell on such thoughts.

As wonderful as Blaine seemed to be, when he wasn't busy feeling overwhelmed Kurt was so very, very afraid. He spent the rest of the week balancing precariously on some invisible edge, waiting for the ball to drop at any moment. He wondered if anyone could see the change in him. He hoped no one knew. _What if someone knew?_ He wanted to scream it all out so badly, this newness, this energy, this fear. But _no one could know_.

Accept, of course, for his father. Burt could know. And Burt did know, knew it like he knew his last name, the very moment his son stepped through the doorway following his second day of work. To his credit, he lasted until dinner without asking.

In fact, when the time came, Burt didn't even need to ask. One look and Kurt was spilling everything. Which, as it turns out, was "I found him, dad. I found him today."

"At the prison?" Burt questioned.

Kurt nodded once, and Burt waited patiently for more. "We haven't even spoken. He was in one of my groups; he's… an inmate." Kurt paused and waited for Burt to comment on that one, but his father remained silent. "He introduced himself and… dad, he's so beautiful."

Burt smiled at his son, bittersweet. "You know this isn't going to be easy, right? But I'm here, whatever you need. And I'm happy for you, kid. I know this wasn't something you expected."

"No," Kurt responded after a moment. He opened his mouth to say something else, then closed it again. They finished the meal in silence.

* * *

It was Monday when it happened. He stopped by the main office to pick up his schedule for the week, which the prison's secretary had kindly offered to print out for him until he "got into the swing of things," as she put it. And there it was, _Blaine Anderson_, printed in the Monday, eleven o'clock slot that had been open the previous week. Blaine had signed up for piano lessons.

It was far, far too soon for Kurt's liking and not nearly soon enough.

Fortunately—or perhaps unfortunately, depending on perspective—Kurt was booked solidly for the two hours prior to their meeting with yet another group and an inmate named Cindy's violin lessons. He didn't have much time to dwell on what was to come, but managed to do a fine job cramming all of his nerves into the five minutes he spent waiting for Blaine to show up. He wrang his hands and paced and almost cried and, wow, he was even sweating, too. Eww.

Then the door was opening, and a large woman dressed in the guard's simple beige uniform stepped inside. Behind her was Blaine.

"Mr. Hummel?" she said. "This is Blaine Anderson. I believe you have an appointment."

"Yes, yes that's fine," he replied absently, hoping he sounded passably normal.

The woman studied him for a long moment, her expression hard to read, before nodding once and turning to leave the room, gently pulling the door closed behind her.

And then it was only the two of them, standing mere feet apart, staring at each other. Kurt's eyes wondered up and down Blaine's body, noticing for the first time how much shorter the other man was, taking in his dark curls, the cut of his jaw, the strength of his shoulders and arms, the trimness of his waist. He was perfect. Finally, he forced himself to meet Blaine's gaze, liquid brown and deep, waiting patiently for acknowledgement.

Kurt didn't know how many moments they stood there, the silence between them thick and tangible and heavy with something he couldn't place.

"Hello, Kurt," Blaine spoke at last, voice rippling through the air between them and making something within Kurt want to hold onto him and weep and dance.

"Hi?" he managed to answer. _Stupid._ Kurt took a few steps forward, one arm outstretched, before he even realized he was doing so. He swallowed audibly. "Can I… can I touch you?"

Blaine nodded once, eyes never leaving his. Did the man even blink? Kurt wasn't sure.

But soon there was soft skin dotted with rough stubble beneath his hand, and Kurt stopped thinking. He traced the other man's features slowly, reverently, over and over and over again. "Blaine," Kurt whispered, at once a word of praise and need.

And then Blaine was _there_, his arms around him secure and right in a way Kurt had never known he needed. "Kurt," Blaine's lips were trailing his ear, "I've been searching for you forever."

"I never searched for you at all," he replied mindlessly, and Blaine pulled back a little to study Kurt's face, his own etched with concern. "No, I mean…" Kurt fumbled "I never allowed myself to hope I'd find you. This is a miracle. I don't believe in miracles. I'm sorry, I just keep rambling."

"No, don't. It's so good to hear your voice." Blaine paused for a moment, then continued, "there's so much I want to say to you, so much I want to know. I don't know where to start."

"I don't even know what to say, or what to do."

"You can say or do anything," Blaine said, "as long as you exist."

Kurt began to laugh a little, then fell silent at the look of sincerity on Blaine's face. "Can I see your hand?" he asked tentatively.

"Oh, of course!" Blaine replied, immediately pulling off the fingerless glove that covered his palm and offering up his arm. "I'd like to see yours as well."

Kurt mirrored his movements, even as his eyes eagerly devoured the name that was etched into Blaine's skin. _Kurt Hummel_ was written there in elegant, cursive script. "It's beautiful," he said, then brought his eyes up to meet Blaine's once more. "_You're_ beautiful." And slowly, deliberately, he brought their palms together.

After a moment, Blaine's fingers curled around his own. "I would say 'not as beautiful as you' but that would be clichéd, wouldn't it?"

"I wouldn't care," Kurt responded earnestly. "Should we… is there some sort of ritual that happens now?"

Blaine's face fell into a frown. "Well, usually there's a ceremony with family and friends, I'm sure you've been to some of those, but given the circumstances…" he trailed off, shaking his head sadly. "I'm sorry Kurt. I'm sorry we had to meet here, like this."

"I'm not!" Kurt broke in resolutely. "Given everything around us, we might not have met at all."

"Oh ye of little faith," Blaine said, the corners of his mouth beginning to curl upward again.

"Why are you here, Blaine?" Kurt asked quietly. "How did they not ruin you, too?" He hoped the many layers of meaning in his questioning were understood.

"That's a long story," Blaine looked down at their clasped hands, where his thumb was slowly moving back and forth over Kurt's skin. "Can we save it for next time? I just want to hold you right now."

Kurt didn't answer, choosing instead to silently lead them over to a worn plaid love seat, where he sat, pulling Blaine down next to him. Blaine twined himself around Kurt and rested his head against the other man's shoulder, sighing contentedly as Kurt's hand came up to stroke through his curls.

As Kurt sat there, holding Blaine like this, the _overwhelming_ of before grew and grew, blossoming within him until it burst and became _beautiful _and _perfect _and _mine_. And suddenly he was crying, sucking in broken, needy sobs. Blaine turned in his arms and all at once his hands were there, stroking Kurt's face, grounding him, his reassuring voice ghosting over Kurt's skin with "I'm here now, I've got you, I'm here."

"This is real?" Kurt found his voice, crazy and raspy and more than a little desperate.

"This is real," Blaine answered firmly, locking their eyes once more. "I'm real, Kurt."

At that Kurt was moving, all pure instinct, wet lips brushing over Blaine's face everywhere, sliding onto Blaine's mouth again and again until they just stayed there, feasting and searching and finding together. Blaine met him at every turn until something seemed to loose in him. He growled deep in his throat, taking over the kiss and taking over Kurt, stretching the other man under and out and beneath him on the tiny couch, climbing on top and _consuming_.

It was all about hunger and _rightness_ and warmth, slow drags of denim and cotton and skin, it was new and heady and way too much. Kurt whimpered and writhed and clawed his way in and out, needing to be closer but also needing to breathe.

Blaine pulled back then, gasping air and blinking down at him a little sheepishly, running a hand through his own tousled hair. "Wow," he said, leaning down to place a gentle kiss on Kurt's nose. "I'm sorry… I… it shouldn't be like this, shouldn't happen here. You deserve better than that. And just… wow."

Kurt smiled up at him, feeling his cheeks heat in a blush that he couldn't quite bring himself to care about. "It's okay, Blaine. 'Wow' is a suitable word, I think. I just… this is new. And overwhelming. And I've never…"

"Oh, no! No, me neither!" Blaine cut in quickly, sitting up but not breaking contact. "I've had opportunities and I almost, once, but… I couldn't do that to you. It wouldn't be right." He swallowed audibly and lifted Kurt's hand from where it was absently trailing down his chest. "You should know that I love you. I've loved you since I was thirteen and… well, maybe before."

Kurt looked back at him and blinked. "I love you too," he said slowly, gaze locked on Blaine's and offering a small smile. "I never thought I'd get to tell you that."

Blaine smiled in response, leaning down to nuzzle their noses together softly. "So… we'll wait for this?" Blaine asked, gesturing between their bodies.

"Yeah, we'll wait," Kurt answered, then leaned up slightly to pull the other man back against him and slot their lips together once again.

They spent the rest of their time together curled up on the couch, cuddling and kissing and _being_ and, for the first time, completely content. The knock on the door, when it came, was startling, and for Kurt a little scary. He clung to Blaine's hands, to their togetherness, even as their bodies began to separate and his own voice was heard calling out for the knocker to come in.

"Next time, I'll actually play something," Blaine promised with a small, sad smile as he followed the guard out the door.

And then Kurt was alone again, only not alone. He sank into the faded leather chair behind his desk, put his head in his hands, and sighed, grateful that he had lunch next. It would certainly take the entire hour, and more, to put himself back together again. He tried and failed and tried and failed until he realized, suddenly, that these attempts were futile. The largest and best part of him had just left, and it would be a week before he could again collect all the pieces.

* * *

The week that followed was somehow even harder for Kurt than the last. After getting through Tuesday—group time filled with frustrating, longing glances that he hoped no one else noticed—the rest of the week loomed and stretched barrenly before him. Monday had never been more sought after, nor further away.

True to his word, when Blaine showed up the next week he made a beeline for the piano after greeting Kurt with a long, lingering kiss.

He situated himself on the piano bench and tinkered with the keys for a few moments before turning to look at Kurt, who had settled on the couch, his face a mix of strong emotions that Kurt didn't have names for, but somehow knew meant _I love you_ and _we belong._

"So, I've had a lot of years thinking about you, waiting for you," Blaine began, his tone betraying that he wasn't getting the words quite right. "I wanted to find a song that would convey how desperate I was to find you, to make you real and okay, because I knew that those things weren't just a given. And, well, I searched for the right song for a while. This is it." Blaine studied Kurt a moment longer, his hazel eyes warm and tender and pleading, before turning back to the piano and beginning to play.

Kurt waited and watched and loved him. Soon enough, a strong, clear voice joined in with the piano.

_I would dial the numbers just to listen to your breath_

_And I would stand inside my hell and hold the hands of death_

_You don't know how far I'd go to ease this precious ache_

_And you don't know how much I'd give, or how much I could take_

_Just to reach you, just to reach you_

_Just to reach you_

_Come to my window_

_Crawl inside and wait by the light of the moon_

_Come to my window_

_I'll be home soon_

_Keeping my eyes open I cannot afford to sleep_

_Giving away promises I know that I can't keep_

_Nothing fills the blackness that has seeped into my chest_

_I need you in my blood I am forsaking all the rest_

_Just to reach you, just to reach you_

_Oh to reach you_

Blaine's voice was captivating enough on its own, but the lyrics… they were broken and desperate and everything Kurt himself had fought hard never to feel. Kurt's heart hurt, realizing the suffering this man had gone through without him. He was so sure he had the worst end of the deal when he met Blaine here and realized that, while his life had certainly not been easy, he was still himself and strong in a way that Kurt had never been. But Blaine's song spoke of something else.

_Come to my window_

_Crawl inside, wait by the light of the moon_

_Come to my window_

_I'll be home soon_

_I don't care what they think_

_I don't care what they say_

_What do they know about this love_

_Anway….._

_Come, come to my window_

_I'll be home, I'll be home _

_I'm coming home_

As soon as Blaine had finished, Kurt was there, pulling him into his arms. They were both crying now, a new level of intensity sparking between them and fusing them together as Kurt whispered "You're home now Blaine, you're home," over and over again as he peppered the other man's face with wet kisses.

"I'm never saying goodbye to you," Kurt promised, pulling back to look into Blaine's eyes. "We're going to get you out of here. We'll go someplace safe. We'll go to Dalton!"

"Dalton," Blaine smiled through his tears, even laughed a little. "You mean The Old World? That's where I'm from, Kurt. Dalton is a school there, one that I attended."

"I assumed that you had been… there," he finished lamely, "The Old World? But if it's safe there, then why did you leave? How did you end up here?"

Blaine sighed. "So many questions, and so little time. But I suppose it's as good a time as any for this conversation." He cupped Kurt's face in his hands, kissing the confused man soundly. "Let's sit down."

They settled on the couch a little apart, hands clasped and facing each other. "It wasn't until I was twelve that I realized that I was different," Blaine began.

* * *

**A/N:** The title, "Come to My Window," is a song by Melissa Etheridge, the lyrics of which are actually a part of the text this time and entirely belong to her. Thank you for reading, for the wonderful reviews and support!


	4. Chapter Three: Iris

**_Chapter Three: Iris_**

"It wasn't until I was twelve that I realized that I was different," Blaine began. "Or rather my brother, Cooper…" Blaine paused and his eyes darkened a little, but he shook his head and continued, Kurt giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "Cooper figured it out. We had so little time then, to prepare, and I was so scared.

"My parents were pretty well-off," he continued. "Dad's a lawyer, mom's a reporter on the news"

"Bridgette Anderson? I've seen her, I think. She's beautiful."

Blaine merely nodded. "They loved me, at least I think they did. They weren't really around much, when Cooper and I were growing up, but I think they tried. They loved me enough to keep me safe, anyway."

He paused, breathing deep. "I don't remember everything; those last few months are a blur. After they found out, dad arranged everything for me to be sent away. I don't think he approved of it… me liking boys, that is. But he didn't want me to suffer. I think he also wanted to salvage the family name, a little. Put on a good show."

"Mom, well… I think she tried to be around a little more, in those finals days. She hugged me more, anyway. But it all seemed forced, somehow. Like she was reacting to the knowledge that she _should_ love me, and she _should_ care about losing me, but the emotion behind it wasn't quite there."

"Cooper, he was the only one who seemed to give a shit, really. He's a few years older than me, and I think he tried to look out for me as best he could when we were younger. You know, be a role model for me in our father's absence or something like that. It wasn't perfect, he still picked on me from time to time"—Blaine scoffed, then continued as though begrudgingly—"but he tried, and did pretty well for his age. I don't remember much," he repeated. "But I remember that he cried, the day I left."

"How did they cover it up when they sent you away?" Kurt asked curiously.

"Well, that's the thing, isn't it? They don't have to, really. Kids just disappear, and everyone turns a blind eye. It's just the way it's done. If there's too much of anything in this country, it's shame."

Kurt nodded his head, taken aback by Blaine's sudden flare of passion.

"I left a little earlier than expected," Blaine continued. "The mark came a week before my birthday, so I wasn't due to report for awhile, but my parents wanted to be safe. When I got to The Olde World, I was taken straight to Dalton. It's a boarding school, you see, set up primarily for cases like mine. But there are other boys and girls there, too, some from here who come for different reasons, and some who are raised in the village near the school."

"I spent four years at Dalton, and it was great." Kurt could hear the enthusiasm in Blaine's voice, his mood picking up now. "It's different there, Kurt, and I don't just mean because it's safe for people like us. Everyone there is so… free, and happy. There's beauty, and art, and you can feel the love everywhere. It's… organic, like it's growing out of the ground itself. I was in a choir while I was at Dalton, called the Warblers. That's where I learned to sing. And I took piano lessons, too. It's all there for the taking, for the living. People in The Olde World, they really live!"

"There was a choir at my high school, too," Kurt interrupted, feeling a little defensive, but unsure as to why. His voice softened. "I was only in it my first year. People started to… suspect things, and I couldn't let that happen."

Blaine shook his head sadly. "I hate it, Kurt, that you couldn't have that. Dalton was my safe haven, and you should've had one, too. I was so happy there." He paused thoughtfully and looked Kurt in the eye. "The only thing that was ever missing in my life was you."

"You didn't miss your family?"

"I missed Cooper, at the time," Blaine responded, choosing his words carefully.

"I don't think I could have handled being away from my dad," Kurt said thoughtfully. "Not that I didn't need you too, you have no idea, it's just…" Kurt took a deep breath "… we're all each other has, dad and I. At least until now. My mom died when I was eight."

"Oh Kurt, I'm so sorry!"

"It's alright, it was a long time ago," Kurt answered, but simultaneously snuggled a little closer against Blaine's side. "She was wonderful; she's the one that got me into Broadway, into music. Dad's great, too, but he's a mechanic. The fine arts aren't exactly his forte."

"It sounds like they're both pretty wonderful," Blaine said. "I hope I get to meet your dad someday."

Kurt nodded eagerly. "He would like you, I think. As long as you're good to me."

"How could I be anything but?"

"What about your family? Did you find them again after you came back here?"

"No," Blaine answered heavily. "I could have, maybe, but when I left mom and dad nine years ago, it was for good. I've made peace with that. I'm not sure they'd want to see me again, anyway. It might be awkward for them."

Kurt was about to comment, but Blaine pressed on.

"So anyway, when I finished at Dalton I went on to college, same as you."

"You studied music?"

"No. I thought about it, but I kind of have this thing about that. Music is something I love. If I took it on as a career, it would become a means of support, a means of _work_ if you know what I mean. No offense."

"None taken," Kurt responded honestly. "I don't feel the same way, but I think I can understand where you're coming from on that. So what did you study?"

"Literature and Education. I enjoy those too, of course, I wouldn't want to do something I _hate_. But mostly," Blaine shrugged as he spoke, "I just like kids. I want to help them, particularly kids like me, who are out of place here."

"That's sweet," Kurt smiled at Blaine and kissed him affectionately on the cheek. "You're clearly more selfless than me."

"That remains to be seen, I think," Blaine chided, returning his smile.

"So what happened after you graduated from college?"

"I didn't," Blaine said flatly.

"What? But… how old are you?"

"I'm twenty-two. You're about the same, I'm guessing?"

Kurt nodded his assent. "Twenty-three. So what gives?"

"I… dropped out."

"Oh. That's… not what I was expecting."

"Which brings us to the part of my abridged story that answers the 'why I'm here' bit," Blaine said, biting his lip a little nervously before finding the other man's hand again, squeezing it a little too tightly.

Kurt drew himself up to full attention, eyeing Blaine patiently.

"I hadn't seen Cooper in nearly eight years," Blaine began at last. Kurt quirked an eyebrow at this because it was so _not_ what he was expecting. "It's… unusual for people to come to The Olde World at Cooper's age, and without a reason to hide. Not unheard of, but not common. But Cooper was determined, and so he found a way. I guess he had been ruminating all those years about what had happened to me and why. You could say he's something of a true politician by nature, very passionate."

Blaine paused and looked away. "He didn't just come for me. I mean, he did… but Cooper came with a plan. He has ambitions. He wants to change things, here. Make them better for people like us, make it so we don't have to hide. Ultimately, then, we wouldn't need this world. Or rather, we wouldn't need the segregation."

"He wants to make this world free, like The Olde World," Kurt clarified.

"Yes. It's more complicated than I have time to get into, now, but essentially, yes."

"Cooper began to gather people. Obviously, he found a lot of support for his ideas in The Olde World—we already practice what he preaches. But some people were prepared to take things to the next level."

"You mean…" Kurt prodded.

"Essentially, we were gathering an army." Blaine groaned. "I hate to call it that, it sounds so harsh!"

"We?"

"Yes, we. Cooper didn't want to get me involved, I think. But I insisted, of course, and we worked well together, for a while."

"And you… came here?"

"Yes. I dropped out of school and… we were spies, I guess you could say. We looked into people we thought might be sympathetic to the cause."

"But you got caught."

Blaine nodded, and something darkened and tightened in his face.

"Cooper too? Is he here?"

"No," Blaine said shortly. "Cooper got away."

Kurt studied him a moment. "There's something you're not telling me here. Maybe a lot you're not telling me."

Blaine didn't deny it. He sighed, instead. "When I came here… it wasn't just for the cause. I never found you in The Olde World, and it wasn't for lack of looking," he admitted sheepishly. It was generally frowned upon to actively search for you soulmate. Fate was thought to come in to play there, and few were willing to risk messing that up. "I was desperate, and worried. I wasn't sure what would have happened to you here."

"Your name," Kurt spoke softly, seeking out the other man's hand. "It's given to boys and girls. That kept me safe."

"Clever, thinking of that. It can't have been easy though."

"No," Kurt answered truthfully. "But it's all worth it now."

Blaine smiled. "I love you. Getting to know you, finally… that's made this all worth it for me, too. It's all I've ever wanted." He reached out to brush his fingers through Kurt's hair, down his face.

"I didn't know I could be this happy," Kurt responded, leaning happily into his touch. Then something akin to panic struck him, as his mind reminded him it couldn't last, not now, and he glanced worriedly up at the clock.

"Five minutes," he choked out, throwing his arms around Blaine's neck and pulling the other man closer. "I don't want to let you go."

"We'll get through this," Blaine assured him, wrapping his arms around Kurt in return. "You already promised to get me out, remember?"

Kurt nodded into his neck, though he didn't feel very hopeful at the moment. An idea struck him, suddenly. "I'll sing for you, too? Next week?"

"I wouldn't miss it," Blaine swore, pulling back until their eyes met.

Just then, the knock sounded on the door. Before Kurt had time to process it, Blaine was standing and walking away from him once again.

* * *

Kurt spent the next week searching his collection for the perfect song—something that would both convey his feelings and suit his voice. After a little trial and error, he finally found something that felt right. Returning to work on Monday, Kurt was riding a little high in anticipation of his performance. And, of course, the opportunity to spend another hour with Blaine.

Eleven o'clock finally came, and Kurt sat and stared at the door. He got up and paced, glancing at the clock to see that it was now five after. He began wringing his hands, then plopped back down on his chair in a huff, and stared some more. Eleven fifteen. Where was he?

Eventually, unable to tolerate the wait a moment longer, he got up and left the office, determined to find someone to ask. Without really planning it, he soon found himself in front of Emma's door. He paused and worried for a moment that she might be in an appointment, and then remembered that she liked to take her lunch early. He knocked on the door a bit frantically, hoping that she had elected today to eat in her office instead of in the staff break room.

"Come in," a voice called, and he hurriedly opened the door in relief.

Emma's office was much like the woman herself: orderly and feminine. The fresh scent of floral lingered in the air, probably carried through the office by the faint breeze blowing over the flowers that brightened the windowsill. A bookshelf sitting against the far wall bore few books, but instead was stacked neatly with colorful pamphlets. Kurt would have taken time to appreciate these details, had he been in the proper mental state to notice.

"Emma," he began, dropping into a comfortable-looking chair perched in front of her desk uninvited. He tried to keep his voice even, hoping to hide his true concern. "Do you know what happened to Bl—to Anderson? We were supposed to have an appointment, now, but he never showed up."

Emma's hands paused mid-polish of a peach, and she looked up at him with wide eyes. "You mean they didn't tell you?"

Kurt shook his head, eager for her to continue on.

"There was an—incident, this weekend." She set the peach down carefully on a napkin and began straightening and re-straightening the sandwich container on the table in front of her. "Some of the men got into a fight, Mr. Anderson among them, from what I heard. They're in the isolation ward, and the rest of the prison's on heightened security for the time being."

Hearing the words, something froze inside of Kurt. _No Blaine this week_, he thought to himself. It was nearly unbearable. Kurt had known this happened from time to time. It was, after all, a prison. It had simply never occurred to him that Blaine, _his_ Blaine, would ever be caught up in something like that.

He suddenly wished he had paid more attention when they had educated him on misdemeanors and the ensuing consequences during orientation. Kurt had mostly tuned that part out, trusting he would never have to deal with such a thing since the guards were the one who handled those kinds of situations.

Now, he wished he knew what Blaine was going through. He could remember enough to know that it wasn't good. They wouldn't hurt him, not really, but he remembered something about restraints. Not to mention the psychological stress that having no human contact for long periods of time could cause. He tried to imagine Blaine going through those things, but found it was too painful to contemplate.

"How long is he there for?" Kurt asked, trying to keep his tone neutral.

"I don't remember, specifically," Emma answered. "You can look up all the details in his file, though, if you feel you need to know."

_The files, of course!_ Kurt had hardly glanced at the records they kept on the patients here, aside from what he needed to add for his own notes. He had been eager to read them when he first took the job, speculating that they might be interesting and informative and, if nothing else, a good way to pass the time, but then he found himself caught up in Blaine. He really needed to put more effort into actually doing his job.

Starting with reading Blaine's file, of course. How could he have overlooked such a promising wealth of information? First things first, though. Kurt needed to find out how Blaine had landed himself in solitary and, more importantly, see if there was anything he could do to help.

"Yeah, I think I'll do that," Kurt said, already halfway out the door. "Thank you, Emma."

"Anytime," the redhead answered cheerfully, picking up her sandwich now as she offered him a pretty smile. "Let me know if you need anything else!"

Reaching his office in record time, Kurt quickly logged on to the computer and found Blaine's file in the massive database. Sure enough, the first notes that popped up were the most recent, and Kurt clicked on the one for Sunday, the first line of which read _Ct remains in isolation…_ He skimmed through it, grateful to read that Blaine was at least being fed well and seemed to be dealing ok with his current accommodations.

_Saturday, then_, he thought as he clicked to the note for the previous day.

_Ct was observed to be taking part in a physical altercation between peers NP and RC, and was attempting to pin peer NP to the ground. Staff intervened and was able to successfully separate ct from peers. Ct cooperated in walking to the isolation ward, where he will remain UFN. Will continue to monitor._

Huh. Not too descriptive, and Kurt wasn't familiar enough with the inmate's names yet to place who _NP_ and _RC_ were yet. _UFN _meant "until further notice," and he wondered briefly if there was something he could do to shorten the amount of time his soulmate would spend there. He would have to do some more digging, maybe ask around a little at tomorrow's group meeting.

Kurt considered trying to visit the isolation ward, but as much as he wanted to see Blaine, he thought he had better find out a little more about the ward itself and what had happened this weekend before he attempted contact. For all he knew, Kurt wouldn't be allowed to talk to the prisoners there anyways. They were, after all, in isolation.

He spent the next hour digging through Blaine's files. Most of what he found was more or less the same information Blaine had given him the week before, with more or less elaboration depending on the topic. Kurt was most eager to read about the crimes that had led Blaine here, sensing that Blaine had purposefully been a little vague about that. Surprisingly, the files he had access to gave no details at all, simply listing Blaine's offense as "treason."

Something didn't sit right, and Kurt was determined to get to the bottom of all this soon. He would find a way.

* * *

_**A/N:**_The title of this chapter comes from the Goo Goo Doll's "Iris."


	5. Chapter Four: You Light Up My Life

**_Chapter Four: You Light Up My Life_**

The next day found Kurt fighting hard against the urge to demand information from his music group. He knew it was best to be a little more subtle, particularly because he was still new and the inmates were still getting a feel for his personality, as much as he was trying to discern what they were like. He tried for casual first.

"So, big fight this weekend?"

The room was silent, everyone staring blankly at him as if he had grown a second head.

"Really, dude?" one voice finally called out. It belonged to a slender black man, who Kurt placed at around thirty. "Worse shit than that goes down here all the time."

Kurt's first instinct was to comment on how this was supposed to be a prison for non-violent criminals, but he thought better of it when he realized how stupid he would sound to these people.

"Okay," he blinked slowly. "Well, this is the first fight I've heard about since I got here. I'm still trying to piece together how everything works."

More silence.

"You could say there's a bit of a fraction between us prisoners," Glasses finally spoke up, sounding like he was choosing his words with great care. Kurt noticed suddenly that not only was Blaine gone, but Mohawk was missing as well. _Noah Pa… Noah Pu… Noah Puck-er-man? NP! _He realized with sudden excitement. "Noah and Rick use any excuse to get into it, and so when Rick started into Blaine…."

"Blaine was involved?" he asked a little hesitantly, trying to sound less invested than he truly.

"Yeah," Glasses said simply, giving him a pointed look that Kurt couldn't read. He didn't speak for a long moment, and Kurt realized he was going to leave it at that. Damn.

Kurt sighed. It seemed he was going to get nowhere for now, but perhaps he could speak with Glasses alone after everyone else had left. "Alright, folks," he tried to sound jovial. "Who's prepared a song for us this week?"

The group passed quickly after that, and to Kurt's surprise he noticed Glasses appeared to lingering in the room as everyone else left without any prompting. He nodded and smiled at Lucy as she _finally_ finished a lengthy description of her favorite musical (which, to be honest, would have interested Kurt under any other circumstances) and slunk out the door.

"Mr. Hummel," Glasses spoke by way of greeting as he tentatively wheeled closer.

"Kurt, call me Kurt, please. Was there something you wanted?"

Glasses looked nervous but determined as he peered up at him. "Kurt, then. I know."

"You know… what?" Kurt's brow furrowed and he wrung his hands, which he now noticed were beginning to sweat. He couldn't mean…

The other man looked around them as if trying to verify that they were indeed alone. When he spoke, his voice was softer but also a bit conspiratorial. "I know about you and Blaine. That you're soulmates."

…that. "But… what? How?" Kurt realized his mouth must be gaping open unappealingly, and snapped it shut as he struggled for something to say. This couldn't be good, could it?

"Blaine told me, of course. He told Puck too. The three of us are tight, if you failed to notice." He was smiling up at Kurt a little too gleefully, and Kurt wondered if he had been _trying_ to make him nervous before.

"I'm sorry, but what was your name again?"

"Artie. Artie Abrams."

Kurt stretched his hand out for the other man to shake, still feeling a little awkward.

"So then you know… you're…"

Artie laughed loudly then, the noise startling Kurt. "I'm not going to rat you guys out, of course. I want to help. And I know what went down this weekend, if you'd still like the 411."

"Go on," Kurt encouraged, hoping he didn't sound too eager.

"So Blaine, well… everyone knows that he's gay. The guards all have access to that information, and some of the nastier ones like to make everyone's business _everyone's_ business, if you see what I'm saying. He's taken a lot of crap for that pretty much since he got here, though there are those of us that don't care. Puck took a liking to him right away, and that helps because Puck's kind of a big deal around here, you know, being in the system most of his life and all."

Kurt didn't know, but he nodded anyway.

"Blaine doesn't just take it, but he's not the type to get into a physical fight either, unless he needs to. Puck _is _the type though; he practically itches for it. So when we were in the cafeteria on Saturday, and Rick started laying into Blaine again…"

"What did he say?" Kurt was curious, but also found himself feeling defensive. The emotion was pretty foreign to him and he was uncertain as to what to do with it.

"Just, the usual…" Artie tried, but stopped when he saw the look on Kurt's face. "Ok, then…. So I guess some of the guys have noticed Blaine looking at you once or twice…"

"They know?!"

"No," Artie answered quickly, shaking his head. "Of course they don't know, Puck and I are the only ones and we can keep a secret. Blaine wouldn't have risked telling us otherwise; he'd never risk you like that. But they aren't blind either, and they'll use just about any excuse."

"Ok," Kurt spoke more to himself, feeling his body begin to calm after the rush of panic.

"Anyway, Blaine was sitting there ignoring him, as usual, but you could see that it was starting to really get to him this time. Rick came closer, and I thought Blaine might actually jump at him when your name was brought up… but then Puck beat him to it. Blaine came to his senses then, and I think he felt responsible and tried to break the fight up. Of course, the guards never see things that way. And there you have it: Isolation. I think this is only maybe the second time he's been there."

"What do they do to them?"

"Well, I've never been, personally. But Puck's been there plenty of times by now. It's not as bad as it sounds, really, I guess they just put you in a cell by yourself… a little sparser than the usual ones… and you don't come out, at all, until they decide you're ready. You get all your meals and stuff taken to you there. Blaine should be out soon, I think, but Puck really did a number on Rick this time so I don't expect to see him for at least a week."

"What can I do? Do you think they'll let me see him?" Kurt knew this last one was a long shot, but he had to ask.

Artie shook his head. "No one sees them but the guards. You could, probably, if you really wanted to, but what excuse would you give? It would look too suspicious."

"Is there someone I can talk to, then, maybe get him out early?"

"Again, suspicious. Sylvester's mean and crazy, but she's clever. She'd figure you out. I think your best option is to wait it out."

Kurt nodded at him solemnly, but inside his mind was spinning. "Thanks, Artie, I appreciate the intel. You won't be in trouble for staying to speak with me, will you?"

"Nah," Artie replied with a grin from where he was now parked near the door. "You could say I'm treated a little special here, I guess. After all, it's not like I can run away or anything." He gestured towards the wheels of his chair, then turned again to go."

"Wait, Artie, one more thing," Kurt called out, moving towards him. The other man paused. "Has anyone ever tried to run away? Has anyone been… successful?"

"Yes," Artie replied, eyes glinting behind his glasses mischievously. "Why don't you ask Blaine more about that, the next time you see him?"

Kurt was lost in thought as he watched the other man wheel down the hallway.

* * *

More than once over the next few days, Kurt found his feet wondering in the direction of the Warden's office, but Artie's words of warning always echoed in his head and kept him from actually going in. He had met Sue Sylvester only one, when he had interviewed for the job, and thought that Artie's judgment of the middle-aged woman was probably sound.

To his relief, he heard through the grapevine on Friday that Blaine had been released from Isolation the night before. Somehow, it made Kurt even more eager and anxious to see him the next week. What use were weekends, anyways?

As it turned out, this one was determined to drag by, even with Kurt putting long hours in at his father's shop in a failed attempt to make the time pass more quickly. He wondered how it was possible to feel so stressed and anxious when, at the same time, Blaine's very existence in his life had brought him a happiness and a sense of purpose he had never experienced before.

And when Blaine was finally there at last, rushing into his arms at precisely eleven o'clock on Monday morning, the world seemed to tilt and right itself so assuredly that Kurt wondered how he'd missed the feeling of wrongness that had been there for so long. He'd felt it, of course, but it hadn't made any sense until now.

He pulled back in Blaine's embrace to glare at him. "Don't you _ever, ever_ do that again! A whole two weeks without you, days spent worrying not knowing where you were, if you were ok! I don't know whether to kiss you or to slap you right now."

To his further annoyance, Blaine merely looked amused. "I'd much prefer the former, I think."

Kurt opened his mouth to chastise him some more but he never got there, because Blaine had closed the small distance between them swiftly and was kissing him so certainly and hungrily that Kurt wasn't sure how he was standing, anymore. When he finally pulled away, Kurt found himself staring after him dazedly. Blaine merely chuckled and pecked him on the lips again.

They settled together on the couch, as they so often did, this time with Blaine's head resting in Kurt's lap.

"Artie filled me in on what happened. I guess you guys are friends?"

"Yeah," Blaine smiled. "Artie and Puck kind of took me under their wings when I got here, showed me the ropes. We're pretty close. It's hard to trust people, here, but I'd trust those two with my life.

"I'm glad you have friends you can count on," Kurt said, then paused, considering his next words. "Artie mentioned something about running away when we spoke, and he said to ask you? Have you guys talked about that?"

"We've discussed it, yes," Blaine conceded. "Never seriously until you got here. Now I have more of a reason to leave. They're willing to help get me out of here, if that's something we want. But you need to really think about this, Kurt. You've got a life here, and this would change everything. If I leave here, we need to leave the country—for good."

"I'm not going to say the thought doesn't scare me," Kurt agreed. "But I don't have much of a life here, really. Nothing in my life has ever brought me meaning and purpose like you do. Now… I can see it, how we could really have a life together, how I could really _live_ for the first time in a long time." He closed his eyes tight, then opened them and met Blaine's. "It hurts," he said simply, "letting myself feel hope."

Blaine reached up to brush his hand gently along the other man's face. "Oh, Kurt. I know it hurts, but it's so worth it for me. You're worth it. Everything is so much more now that I have you. We have to try, I think, to have it all. We owe it to ourselves. We have to try to get out of here and be free. There's so much I want to be for you."

Kurt smiled down at him softly. "You're already everything. But yeah, I do think you're right. Getting you out of here, going somewhere where we can be together… that's worth it. But how?"

"It's going to take some thinking, and possibly a few miracles. But having Artie and Puck will help a lot. Puck's agreed to be a distraction, if necessary, and Artie, well, he's invaluable. Did he tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

"Artie's the tech guy around here. He can break into anything. That's what got him in here, he was a hacker. But they trust him, far more than any of the other inmates, because what harm could he ever do?" Blaine smiled smugly.

"What's Puck in here for, then?"

"Oh, this and that… drugs. Grand theft auto. He's been in and out for years on different charges, it's hard to say for sure." Blaine peered up at Kurt, his face changing into something more serious, and squeezed his hand. "The three of us have been discussing escape for a number of years now, not with any real intent, but still. I think we're good on the inside. The problem is going to lie in getting through the gate."

"And if we can get through the gate? What comes then?"

Blaine shook his head. "I guess we still have some pretty major details to hash out. It's going to take time, Kurt, but I'll talk to the guys, ok?"

"Just be careful," Kurt pleaded. "Please don't get yourself put away again. I don't think I could stand not seeing you for that long. This is already hard enough as it is."

"I know baby," Blaine soothed, pulling himself up to sit beside Kurt and leaning close so that their foreheads pressed together, before abruptly jerking back. "Hey, weren't you supposed to sing for me, last week?"

Kurt blushed. "Oh yeah, that."

"There's still time today," Blaine prodded eagerly. "Come on, I'd like to hear you. It's only fair!"

"I haven't practiced in a week," Kurt protested weakly. "I'm not sure the mood is right…"

"Please!" Blaine interrupted. Looking at his face, Kurt suddenly thought he understood what everyone meant when they talked about "puppy eyes" because really, how could he say no to that?

Kurt began to stand a little hesitantly. "Promise you won't laugh?"

"Really? Of course not, Kurt, I love you! I'm sure it will be beautiful!"

Kurt nodded and busied himself with setting up the CD player. Soon, a lovely, haunting melody filled the air. Blaine recognized the song immediately and tried not to show his surprise, fixing his eyes attentively on his soulmate as Kurt began to sing.

_So many nights I sit by my window _

_Waiting for someone to sing me his song _

_So many dreams I kept deep inside me _

_Alone in the dark but now you've come along _

_And you light up my life _

_You give me hope to carry on _

_You light up my days_

_And fill my nights with song _

_Rollin' at sea, adrift on the water _

_Could it be finally I'm turning for home? _

_And finally, a chance to say, _

_"Hey, I love you"_

_Never again to be all alone _

_'Cause you, you light up my life _

_You give me hope to carry on _

_You light up my days _

_And fill my nights with song _

_And you, you light up my life _

_You give me hope to carry on _

_You light up my days _

_And fill my nights _

_Fill my nights with song, with song _

_You give me hope to carry on _

_You light up my days _

_And fill my nights with song _

_It can't be wrong when it feels so right _

_'Cause you, you light up my life _

_My life, my life, my life oh_

* * *

_**A/N:**_ The song in this chapter belongs to the late and great Whitney Houston, not to me! Thank you all for reading, for you reviews and support!


	6. Chapter Five: Fast Car

**_Chapter Five: Fast Car_**

Blaine spent the next few weeks stealing secret conversations with Artie and Puck to figure out the details of his escape. It was a tricky business, avoiding suspicion from the guards, but they managed what they could. On Mondays, Blaine would relay information and decisions to Kurt.

"Artie's hashed out pretty much all the tech stuff," Blaine reported one Monday a few weeks later. "He's known how to dismantle the security system for ages, but I guess the issue is an alibi for him since he's the _only_ one that can do it. He figured out someway to put the shut-down on a delay system, I think, so we can pick our time in advance and he can make sure he's somewhere with plenty of witnesses."

"How long will that get us?"

"He says an hour, tops, maybe only twenty minutes under bad circumstances. It'll depend on how quickly they take notice, which should depend a lot on the time of day."

"It'll have to be evening," Kurt said thoughtfully, "but not too late. I need to realistically still be in the building, but we'll want most all of the other day workers to have left. And Sylvester's always here, watches this place like a hawk."

Blaine nodded. "She eats dinner in her quarters though, most nights anyway. Can you find out what time?"

"I'll try," Kurt agreed.

"Puck's going to stage a fight or something, and that will take care of most of the other staff. I'll just slink away while they're distracted."

"That just leaves the outdoor staff, then. Damn! I still don't know what to do about them. I could try to make friends, of course, but that's a big thing to trust a new friend with, not to mention the suspicion it will put on me."

Blaine reached for his hand. "We'll think of something, babe, don't worry. We just have to be patient."

Kurt whined and mock-pouted. "I don't want to be patient. I want us, twenty-four/seven, and I want it now!"

Blaine chuckled and planted a quick kiss on his nose. "Someday, I promise you'll be sick of me!"

Kurt thought about protesting, but instead he just smiled.

"Blaine," he asked tentatively. "Why is it that Puck and Artie don't want to escape too?"

"Puck does," Blaine answered. "Though I imagine he'd end up back here eventually. He's gotten out before, at different facilities. Artie is a little different."

"How so?"

"I don't know many details, but he's happy here, from what he's said. I think he feels useful, while back at home he just felt like a burden."

"But what about finding his soulmate? Doesn't he care about that?"

Blaine sucked in a loud breath, chewing on his lower lip for a moment before speaking. "I'm not sure he'd want you to know…"

Kurt's eyes narrowed in confusion, but he waited quietly.

Finally, Blaine spoke again. "Artie doesn't have a name on his hand."

"What?" Kurt gasped. "I've never heard of that before, doesn't everyone? What does that mean?"

"It's rare," Blaine conceded, looking away from him. "But there's quite a few people with no name in The Olde World. I guess they go there for the same reason people like us do. Not that the government does anything to them, but you're pretty shunned here if you don't have a name."

"There are theories," he continued, "as to why it happens. But no one really knows. Sometimes, though, people without a name will get one later in life, usually the name of someone who has had another soulmate but lost that person to death. Sometimes those matches work out, sometimes not. There are a few, though, who will never get a name."

"I can't imagine that," Kurt said quietly after a moment, cuddling Blaine closer to him.

"You don't have to," Blaine said sincerely. "'I got you babe,' right?" He elbowed the other man playfully, causing Kurt to reluctantly smile."

"Yeah," Kurt answered. "And I got you."

* * *

Like most of their serious conversations, Kurt decided to broach the subject with his dad over dinner.

"Dad," he began carefully. "How would you feel about housing a fugitive here? Just for a night or two, of course," he added hastily.

Wrinkles appeared in his father's forehead as he slowly placed his fork on his plate of pasta, wiped his mouth, and sat back.

"And what kind of crazy question is that to spring on your old man? Is this about Blaine?"

Kurt sighed and nodded. "I want to break him out, dad. It's the only way. We've been planning it for a while now, we just need a few more people on the inside…"

"Woah, woah, woah, stop right there kiddo! Now I know this is hard and you want to be together, but breaking someone out of jail is serious stuff! And you want to bring him under this roof!?"

"Well, I don't know where else we'd go," Kurt defended, trying to sound reasonable. "It's not like they have any reason to expect my involvement, by the time they do we'll be out of here. And what other choice do we have? We can't go on like this, dad. It's not fair to me, and it's not fair to him. He didn't even do anything wrong!"

"You know I believe that, after what you told me," Burt said. "I want more than anything for you to be happy. But I'd be doing you wrong if I didn't tell you what a huge risk this is, and I'm not talking about for me."

Kurt was quiet for a minute. "I know it's a risk," he said softly. "But it's one I have to take." He looked up and met his father's blue eyes with his own. "I need your help, daddy, please. It will just be for one night, I promise."

Burt studied his son for a moment. "One night," he repeated. "Then what?"

Tears welled up in Kurt's eyes, but he didn't answer.

Burt sighed. "I thought so."

"It's the only way," Kurt spoke pleadingly.

Reaching over, Burt cupped his son's face in one hand, brushing a stray tear away with his thumb. "I know," he said, voice breaking up. "But that's not going to make it any easier. Not on either of us."

He dropped his hand, straightened up in his chair, and resumed eating. Kurt sat waiting, eyes not leaving his father.

"Of course you can bring Blaine here," Burt said after a moment. "Can't wait to meet the kid."

Kurt sobbed his relief.

* * *

The break-through came from the last place, in the last way any of them would have expected.

It was a Friday afternoon that found Kurt eating in the staff's break room, sharing a rare but pleasant lunch with Emma. They sat alone together, neither being the type that made friends easily, but the rest of the small room was fairly crowded with coworkers. Kurt recognized most of them, at this point, and even knew half their names. But he was only on speaking terms with a few.

A rather large woman with her dark hair messily knotted at her neck was seated at the table next to them, the only total loner in the room. She sat facing Kurt, eating her way through at least three sandwiches and a bag of chips, but was gazing with unveiled fascination at Emma, who was polishing each grape in turn with a paper towel before plopping it into her mouth. Emma was either too absorbed in speaking with Kurt or too polite to take notice, but Kurt was glaring openly at the woman in acknowledgment of her rude behavior. She finally looked up at him and smirked before resuming her staring.

Kurt didn't know her name, but he recognized her and knew her reputation. She was badass and not afraid to flaunt it, and she worked as one of the perimeter guards on the afternoon shift.

At that moment, Warden Sylvester herself appeared in the doorway. Activity and conversation in the room halted briefly as everyone instantly took notice, then continued with an air of tension in an attempt to pass as normal. She stood there for a moment, today clad in a camo track suit, sniffed visibly and surveyed the room. Seemingly satisfied, she walked over to the coffee machine and began fixing herself a cup.

Kurt was pointedly trying to ignore her at this point, same as everyone else, but a startled cry of pain coming from mere feet in front of him made his eyes jolt up in alarm. Sue Sylvester was standing beside Badass (ok, so it wasn't original, but it was all he could come up with at the moment) and peering down into her now empty coffee cup.

"Oops," the blonde woman said overdramatically, reaching up to clap Badass on the shoulder a few times and giving her a phony smile. "Guess I'm gonna need another cup."

Badass looked royally pissed, and was clutching at her left arm in obvious pain, but even she must have known better than to say anything. As Sue turned and walked back towards the coffee machine, Badass attacked the coffee-soaked glove that covered her hand, trying to inconspicuously wipe down the injured flesh with a water-soaked napkin someone had handed her before hastily attempting to hide it again.

She was quick, but not quick enough. In the mere seconds it was exposed, Kurt had made out the unmistakable letters that spelled _Noah Puckerman_ written in messy scrawl across her blistering red palm.

* * *

_**A/N:**_ This chapter is much shorter than the rest, but it accomplished what I needed it to. Title song is by Tracy Chapman.


	7. Chapter Six: I Want to Break Free

**_Chapter Six: I Want to Break Free_**

Kurt's conversation with Lauren, when it happened, was interesting to say the very least.

He hadn't wanted to tell her about the relationship between him and Blaine, unsure of what her reaction would be, merely mentioning that he was helping Blaine for "personal reasons."

Lauren had looked at him with a sort of dazed curiosity before her expression abruptly changed to something far more sinister. "Sex between dudes is hot," she declared with absolute certainty. "I would ask to stick around and watch, but Puckerman's gotta lot of woman to get up on here, so I think we'll be busy for quite some time."

"umm... Thanks?" Kurt responded, a little taken aback.

"No problem." Lauren pointed to herself, "Zizes always speaks the truth. So when do I get to meet my man?"

"I'll have Blaine speak with him, see what we can work out. I'll let you know."

* * *

The next week, Puck signed up for Oboe lessons.

"The _oboe_?" Kurt exclaimed after group. "You really think that's believable?"

Puck shrugged. "No one will be paying attention. And the oboe is a cool instrument! I actually wanted to play it back when I was a kid…"

"That's fine, whatever," Kurt said, nervously eyeing the guard that was still standing by the door watching them. Most of the time the guards left to escort the majority of the prisoners back to the living areas of the prison, trusting to leave any stragglers alone with Kurt, but this guy Kurt didn't recognize. He had the rest of the group waiting outside the door and seemed determined to leave with everyone at the same time.

"Yeah," Puck said, glancing subtly in the same direction. He met Kurt's eyes and slightly nodded his understanding. "I'll see you later this week for those lessons, then," he spoke loudly, turning to go.

Kurt nodded back. "See you later."

* * *

Kurt was very, very grateful that Lauren had come along, the perfect person to assist in their plans. She did, however, introduce a new complication. Now they were going to have to break Puck out, too, and they needed a new distraction.

Perhaps the most frustrating aspect of the planning process was that it was incredibly difficult to effectively communicate with everyone involved. Kurt could speak to Lauren freely when they were alone, of course, but on the other end of it were Puck, Blaine and Artie, who had to mind their conversations under the watchful eyes and ears of the prison guards. Communication between the two groups was even more difficult to achieve and basically whittled down to the hour Blaine and Kurt had together on Mondays for his "lessons."

Kurt had managed to introduce Puck and Lauren two days after they spoke as his lesson had been scheduled for that Thursday afternoon. Maybe "introduce" wasn't the right word. Kurt had very carefully snuck Puck out of his office (thankfully located in a little-traveled wing of the hospital) and into a nearby janitor's closet where Lauren had been waiting. He hadn't even gotten their names out of his mouth to make a proper introduction when they started fiercely kissing, right in front of him. It was the most lewd thing Kurt had ever witnessed, and he had awkwardly slipped out of the small space as quickly as he could. Puck reappeared in his office a few minutes before the guard came to retrieve him, looking dazed and grinning wildly. Kurt strongly suspected they weren't doing much talking at all during the hour they met each week, let alone planning.

In spite of all this, however, a second breakthrough finally did come.

"I think we've found the distraction we're going to need to slip away," Blaine told him excitedly one Monday.

"Oh?"

"Quinn Fabray has agreed to…"

"Wait, what? That quiet goth girl in music group? Why would you even think of bringing someone else into this, let alone her!?"

"Woah, calm down," Blaine nearly snapped, coming over to Kurt and rubbing his hands soothingly up and down the other man's arms. "You really think I'd do anything to jeopardize our plans?"

Kurt brought his hands up to his face, sighing into them and rubbing his forehead. "No, you're right, I'm sorry. Please, explain."

"I'm not sure it's my place to tell you this," Blaine began. "Quinn is a very private person, and not overly friendly to be honest. She's had a rough life."

"I can tell," Kurt broke in half-sarcastically.

Blaine went on as though he hadn't spoken. "I think her motives for wanting to help, and our motives for helping her, will make sense. Do you know why Quinn's in here?"

Kurt wracked his brain. He had taken to reading the inmate's files lately, out of about equal parts boredom and curiosity, but there had been a lot of them and they all tended to blur together after a while. "Is she the one with the kid?"

Blaine nodded, lowering himself to sit in Kurt's chair and spinning around in it once before settling with his feet propped up on the desk. "She got pregnant when she was still in high school, and it's illegal…"

"It's illegal to have a child with someone who isn't your soulmate. I'm not completely ignorant of the world around me, Blaine." Kurt didn't add that he wasn't aware of the full penalty that law carried until he started his job.

"Right, sorry!" Blaine retorted. "Anyways, her kid… well, I don't know how to put this any other way but bluntly, so I'll just say it. Puck is the father."

Kurt felt his jaw drop open a little at that, and quickly snapped it shut. "Wow, ok. Does Lauren know?"

"He told her last week. She took it well, from what he said. I don't think she's quite the type to put much stock in chastity."

"But Quinn is ok with Puck and Lauren? I still don't get why she wants to help."

"Quinn is far from stupid. Their fling was a long time ago, and she hadn't seen him in a long while since she's been here for several years. It was just a coincidence that he ended up here as well. She knows better than to get emotionally attached."

"Right," Kurt said flatly. "You're beating around the bush here."

"Their daughter went into foster care a couple years ago. Quinn's mother was raising her, but she got sick and died and her husband didn't approve of keeping a reminder of his daughter's 'shame.' Puck promised Quinn that after he gets out, he and Lauren will try to find her and give her a good life."

"How is Puck going to do that as an ex-convict?"

"Not a clue," Blaine conceded. "I imagine it will involve some highly-illegal kidnapping and then an attempt to sneak across the border, but that's not for me to know."

"Ok," Kurt said slowly after a moment. "I think I get why you're trusting her. I'm not even going to ask how she plans to do this…"

"Probably for the best," Blaine agreed.

Kurt approached the chair and plopped down in Blaine's lap, curling up against him and burrowing his head into Blaine's neck.

"I'm sorry I've been so snappy, and that I doubted you," he said quietly. "I'm just so scared about all of this. So much can go wrong, and I don't want to lose you."

Blaine's arms came up to wrap around him and pull Kurt tightly against his chest. "I know babe." He kissed Kurt's forehead. "I'm not going to lie to you, what we're planning is very risky… I don't even want to think of the repercussions should we get caught. But we just have to do the best we can and trust that it will work out. It's worth it if we can be together."

They were silent for a while, lost in their thoughts and holding each other, before Kurt spoke again. "Blaine, tell me about what our life will be like in The Olde World."

Blaine smiled. "It's beautiful there, so much you can feel it. Everyone is accepted and there's love everywhere you look. I'll be able to go back to college, of course, and you can try out for the musicals they're putting on all the time. We'll work hard and save up and buy our own house…"

* * *

The next week Blaine brought the very news that Kurt had been anxiously waiting to hear: all was ready, and it was time.

They spent their hour together verifying all the plans they had made for Friday night, when they had determined that it was safest to attempt a break out due to typically strained staffing on the weekends.

"So, to start out the day my dad will follow me to work in an unmarked car, and park it just out of sight at the building. I'll park in my usual spot, and my dad will sneak in when it's clear during the day and move my car near the other one, so no one will see me leave in it or be suspicious when it's still there."

"Right, and Artie will set up the tech stuff during his afternoon rounds…"

"Do you have a key for the doors?"

Blaine shook his head. "Don't need one, when the security system goes down the doors will automatically unlock."

Kurt nodded. "What about the distraction?"

Blaine smiled. "Like I said, Quinn has that all taken care of. Also, Puck and I plan to leave through different exits, so hypothetically if they catch one of us they won't be able to catch both…"

"Let's not think about that," Kurt broke in hurriedly.

"You need to be waiting for me outside of your office, and we'll go from there. I still don't like you sticking around to leave with me, you know, it's not safe."

"I'd just feel better if I was there," Kurt repeated the argument he'd used every time this came up. "I stay late all the time, it won't look suspicious."

"I you say so," Blaine acquiesced. "We'll be leaving through the back door and all of us will meet at the back gate—Lauren's on duty there that night—so your dad can wait for us there?"

"No problem," Kurt agreed. "Wow, we're really going to do this, aren't we?"

Blaine reached out and took his hand. "Yeah," he said with a squeeze. "I guess we really are."

* * *

When Friday came, things went almost too smoothly. Burt followed Kurt to work, assuring his son that he had plenty of car magazines to occupy him throughout the day, that he would not be seen, that he would remember to be there on time…

"Relax, buddy," his dad said as they parted that morning. "I know this is a big deal goin' down today, but it wouldn't do anybody any good if you let the stress get to you."

Kurt wasn't sure that his father's words were reassuring, but as usual, they were practical. "Yeah dad, I'll try. And… thank you. For being so great."

"Ain't nothing special about it," Burt had countered. "It's called being a father."

As the day moved on, Kurt tried his best to keep his mind focused on his work, both to give himself something to do and to keep from attracting suspicion. This grew increasingly challenging as his anxiety multiplied with each minute that ticked away on the clock. He knew what his cues would be… the security camera in his office going blank, the code announcement over the intercom system, and then he needed to be waiting outside of his office. If these things failed to happen, then the whole plan would be a no-go.

He stared at the black screen in shock for a moment as for the first time what he was about to attempt felt real. His breathing sped up and his hands began to twist together as he waited, watching one minute click by on the clock, then another…

Four minutes had passed when the announcement finally came, and he stood, a little shakily, and cracked open his door. The coast was clear. Glancing back to take one more visual sweep of his office, he turned and stepped out into the hallway, quietly closing the door behind him for the last time.

And then Blaine was there, moving quickly toward him. Kurt could tell that he was fully alert, tense and ready should something troubling occur, but he knew that no one else looking at Blaine would see this. His soulmate was a pretty good actor.

He smiled at Kurt as he drew close, and Kurt fell easily into step beside him. He was still nervous, but his anxiety was now accompanied by an unexpected rush of excitement. Something about doing this, walking down the hall next to Blaine, felt so natural to Kurt, so _right_, that he had to struggle to hold onto to his feelings of fear. He had always been the type to follow the edict "better to be safe than to be sorry," and now was certainly not an appropriate time to let hope tempt him into throwing caution to the wind.

Still, as they neared the back door of the building, he could feel himself beginning to relax a little bit, and could tell that Blaine was doing the same. Kurt couldn't help the conspiratorial grin that was creeping across his face, and a glance at Blaine showed that the other man's expression was much the same. Kurt inched a little closer to him, brushing their fingers together lightly before tentatively moving to take his hand…

A door opened at the very end of the hall suddenly, a guard stepping out of the room. Kurt yanked his hand away, his smile falling instantly, as Shannon Beiste looked up and met his eyes.

* * *

**A/N:** The title of this chapter is taken from a song by Queen.

To all my followers, I'd like to apologize for the long wait! I have had this written for a while but haven't posted, partly because I had hoped to finish the story before posting again and partly because I hate reviewing. While the story is not finished, I'm pleased to say that I have only one chapter left to write. I fully plan to post chapter seven around this time next week.

I'd like to thank all of you who have favorited this story and/or are following me, it truly means a lot. To my reviewers: you are what keep me motivated to write more, and give me some hope that this story isn't a terrible waste of my time! I appreciate your words more than you know and will make more effort in the future to respond.

Is there anyone out there who would be interested in being a beta for this story (or verse, I have a sequel and more planned out.) I would love you forever!


	8. Chapter Seven: We Didn't Start the Fire

**_Chapter Seven: We Didn't Start the Fire_**

_Still, as they neared the back door of the building, he could feel himself beginning to relax a little bit, and could tell that Blaine was doing the same. Kurt couldn't help the conspiratorial grin that was creeping across his face, and a glance at Blaine showed that the other man's expression was much the same. Kurt inched a little closer to him, brushing their fingers together lightly before tentatively moving to take his hand…_

_A door opened at the very end of the hall suddenly, a guard stepping out of the room. Kurt yanked his hand away, his smile falling instantly, as Shannon Beiste looked up and met his eyes._

There was silence for a moment as the group sized each other up, Shannon glancing back and force between the two boys in turn. "Hummel," she finally said. "What is this?"

"I was…" Kurt began.

"Kurt was just taking me…" Blaine started at the same time, wincing as he realized his mistake because there was far too much familiarity in that name.

Comprehension was beginning to dawn, as Shannon looked for the first time down at their hands, still just-touching between them. Kurt yanked his to the side just as Blaine took a step away.

"I see," Shannon spoke after a moment.

Kurt could feel his heart pounding as he waited there for her judgment, mind racing for a solution but finding none. They had been so stupid, so naive to think they could get away this.

"I was just leaving for the day," Shannon continued. "I didn't expect to see anyone on my way out. _I haven't seen you_. Until tomorrow, you understand. I won't lie for you two."

Kurt stood there like an idiot, nodding at her words but not really hearing them, until he felt Blaine's hand slip into his and tug gently.

"We understand," Blaine was saying. "Thank you." And then Shannon was walking past them, Blaine pulling Kurt along in the opposite direction, pushing through the heavy double doors.

The fingers wrapped around Kurt's, the warm sunshine on his skin, the blue sedan that he could barely see through the gate, waiting for them like a promise—these felt more like freedom to Kurt than anything he had ever felt.

* * *

They made it to the car without incident, Blaine swiftly ducking into the back seat while Kurt settled up front by his father, both men keeping their heads down even though the car had tinted windows. Kurt could sense that Burt was on edge, but outwardly the man seemed as calm as ever, leaning over to adjust the volume of the radio. It was a bad move on his part, because as soon as he did Kurt noticed that the music was country and swiftly turned it off.

"Are your buddies coming soon?" Burt asked, the sound of his words startling in the now-silent car.

Even as he finished speaking, Kurt noticed a figure running full-speed from around the side of the gate, glancing back over his shoulders frequently as he did so. "Shit," Blaine said out loud, but all they could do is watch as Puck made his way swiftly across the lawn, Lauren stepping out of the shadows where she had been waiting by the gate to meet him. Kurt half expected to see some of the guards chasing him down, but Lauren was already closing the gate again when someone else finally came in to view. It took a few moments to register that it was Sue Sylvester herself, and she seemed to be limping a little as she hurled something indistinguishable at Puck's head.

Puck and Lauren were almost to the car when the gates fully shut, a few feet away from Sue's angry face, and he saw Lauren smirk at Puck before turning and giving the screaming woman the finger just before she disappeared from view. But then it was over, and they were in the car, the door slamming shut in their haste, his dad flooring it.

"That felt good," Lauren said after a moment, and Kurt was too scared to turn around when he heard unmistakable kissing noises.

All too soon, Burt was stopping with a screech behind Kurt's parked car, leaving the engine running as everyone jumped out and tossing Kurt his keys. Puck and Blaine exchanged a look that told Kurt that they'd already said their goodbyes. There really wasn't time now, anyway.

"Take care of yourselves," Kurt called out a little awkwardly as they moved towards their respective vehicles. "And that baby. And _thank you._"

Puck merely nodded at him, already settled behind the driver's seat, and Lauren offered him a rare smile. Kurt sighed heavily as he shut his own door and started the engine, pulling onto the street with a little more caution than his dad had shown. They spent the rest of the drive in silence.

When they reached the house and climbed out of the car, Blaine immediately approached Burt. "Mr. Hummel," he said, extending his hand. "My name is Blaine Anderson. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Burt looked a little taken aback for a moment before collecting himself and shaking the proffered hand. "Call me Burt."

Blaine nodded, and together the three men headed up to the house. Once inside, Kurt turned to glance awkwardly between his father and soulmate. "I'm going to go warm dinner," he announced after a moment, wincing internally at the thought of leaving Blaine and Burt alone to talk, but knowing it was best to let his dad get it over with.

"So, tell me about this prison thing," he heard Burt ask as he moved through to the kitchen and out of hearing range.

It was a relief to go through the motions of placing the chicken pot pie he had prepared the night before in the oven, clean and chop vegetables for a salad, pull the cheesecake out of the fridge to slice. He needed something to do with his hands while he attempted to process the events of the last couple hours, and prepare for what was to come tonight and over the next few days.

He was still a bit in shock that their plan had worked thus far—Blaine was no longer in prison, but he was here, safe at home with Kurt where he belonged. Tonight he would be in Kurt's bed, and tomorrow they would set out together on a still riskier journey that would hopefully be the beginning of the rest of their lives. Together.

There were simply too many emotions warring for his attention, but the mindless tasks of food preparation helped, and by the time Kurt ran out of things to do he felt calm enough to rejoin his father and Blaine. Wiping his sweaty hands on a kitchen towel, he walked to the living room, where he found them sitting companionably on the couch watching a football game.

_Blaine likes football?_ Kurt was a little shocked, but then there were probably many things that Blaine liked that Kurt didn't know about yet. The reminder of how new and unexpected their relationship was stung just a little.

Until Blaine looked up at him with adoration in his eyes, a smile growing on his face, and patted the empty space between him and Burt on the couch. Kurt returned his smile tentatively, walking over a sinking down into his seat while deliberately not looking at his father, whose gaze had remained fixed on the screen the entire time.

He took Blaine's hand. "Dinner should be ready in about ten minutes," he said to both of them. Then, when no one replied, "did you two have a nice chat?"

Burt merely grunted in response, but Blaine gave his hand a little squeeze. "I just told him a little about the circumstances that led up to me being in prison."

Kurt stole a glance at his father, who was still pointedly staring at the television. "Oh? But I already told him about most of that."

"I just wanted his side of the story," Burt said simply, finally turning to look at his son and Blaine. His eyes traveled to where their hands were clasped together before flickering back up to Kurt's face, but his expression betrayed nothing.

"And?" Kurt prompted, not trying to hide the annoyance in his voice.

"It's just as you said," Burt answered cryptically. But then his face softened. "Looks like you landed yourself a pretty good one, kid."

Kurt felt himself physically relaxing at his father's words. Burt could be hard to read at times and he was always careful with what he said, but Kurt should have trusted that his father would be able to recognize all the good in Blaine and, hopefully, understand in the short amount of time they would have together why he was perfect for Kurt. He didn't want his father to be worried about him, after they left, even as part of him understood instinctively that that was a bit of a pipe dream.

A timer went off in the kitchen. "That's dinner," he announced, a little more happily, and led the way to the kitchen, the other two men trailing after him.

* * *

Kurt had been afraid that the dinner conversation would be stilted at best, but Burt surprised him as soon as the salad had been passed around.

"So, Blaine, Kurt tells me your folks sent you to Dalton. What's that like?"

Blaine paused his forkful of lettuce before it reached his mouth. "Dalton is the name of the boarding school I attended, actually, they call the place beyond the border 'The Olde World.' It was quite an experience, to say the least. Nothing like it is here. People are so much… freer there. More relaxed, more educated. I'm really grateful to have had that experience."

"You didn't miss your parents? I gotta say, I might have considered that for Kurt if it was really necessary and an option for us, but it would have killed me to see him go."

Kurt smiled at his father, reaching over to give his hand a gentle squeeze.

Blaine looked thoughtful. "My parents weren't as… accepting as you are of Kurt. They weren't unkind, but they didn't understand. Sending me away was the best thing they ever did for me."

Burt shook his head, looking a bit put out. "I can't say I understand how _anybody_ can be any less than fully accepting of their kid exactly the way they are, but I'm glad you're ok with it."

"It wasn't easy, but I've had a lot of time to accept it," Blaine spoke earnestly.

"What do you mean when you say that people there are 'more educated'?" Kurt broke in. "I've been meaning to ask you for a while…

Blaine sighed, staring down at his wine as he twirled it around in the glass. "How much do the two of you know about the Source?"

Kurt merely looked confused, but Burt's eyes registered some recognition. "It's what's behind the names, isn't it? What brings soulmates together."

Blaine nodded, his eyes shifting back and forth between Kurt and his father. Kurt wasn't sure why, but he felt a new tension lingering in the air, as though something big was about to be revealed. He twisted in his seat before standing to take pie out of the oven.

"Many years ago," Blaine began, "there were no such things as soulmates. Well, there were I suppose, but people had no way of finding them. They would fall in and out of love easily, marry—that's kind of like what we call 'bonding'—and breaking up at will. Very few people ever found their actual soulmates, and the world was so sad that there was crime and war and violence the likes of which we've never seen today."

Taking his seat again and distributing their dinner, Kurt couldn't help but feel as though Blaine was reciting something from a textbook. Then again, maybe he was.

"What happened?" Burt coaxed, his brow furrowed as if he was thinking too hard.

"Alien intervention." Blaine smiled as he delivered that line. "It seems crazy, but it's true. Their names have been lost to us, but finding us in such a state, they set about taking over and introducing the Source. It wasn't an easy process, and much of Earth's population was wiped out in the struggle, but in the end they brought us peace. The Source grounds us to the root of all that is good… to love itself, you could say. It brings us life, and it gives us the names that will lead us to our soulmates."

Kurt shook his head, feeling that something about all of that didn't sit right. "How is it that this world bans homosexuality, then, if this Source is what gives us our soulmates? If the Source is so good, how can people say it creates something that is wrong?"

Blaine considered him sadly. "It's not wrong, Kurt. When the Source first came, there was no prejudice. In fact, homosexuality used to have a purpose in our world, and you can still see the remnants of that today. Because two people of the same sex cannot naturally have children, they were upheld as natural leaders instead. Power couples, of a sort, who were meant to govern, though some of them did have other roles in society and some even adopted."

"That sounds beautiful," Kurt said quietly, tears springing to his eyes as he pictured it.

"Yeah, so what happened?" Burt asked.

"Disease," Blaine answered simply. "A couple centuries ago, long after those that brought the Source had left, some sort of plague broke out on Earth and wiped us out nearly to the point of extinction. And that's where rehabilitation first came in…"

"To help with re-population," Kurt supplied, beginning to put the pieces together. As much as the idea made him sick, it did make sense. "But why didn't things go back to the way they were before, after that was taken care of?"

"The Source was weakened when the population dropped, and then rehabilitation weakened it further because it caused people to go against their natural instincts. Prejudice began to seep back in, and rehabilitation continued long past the time when it was necessary. The world began to view rehabilitated people as even more effective leaders, as it appeared to cut them off from many of the emotions the rest of us fall prey to, and so it continued."

"And the Source?"

"It's still weaker now than it was at the beginning, but our population, while still not what it once was, is strong enough to keep it going, at least where the names are concerned. It's much stronger in The Olde World. That's one of the reasons for the barrier; it's to keep out all the bad feelings that make the Source weak. In fact, The Olde World was only created because someone was smart enough to see the need to strengthen the Source."

"That's… a lot to process," Burt said, while Kurt stood to get the desert.

Blaine nodded. "People are kept ignorant here for a reason."

They finished the rest of the meal in silence, each man lost in his own thoughts, until Burt abruptly stood and announced his intention to retire. "Big day tomorrow," his voice was laced with emotion. "I think I'll go put on some music. _Loud _music," he clarified, glancing between his son and Blaine pointedly.

"Goodnight, Burt," Blaine answered him with a smile, both grateful and amused.

Kurt only blushed.

* * *

_**A/N: **_I am thrilled to tell you all that this story is now finished, and the sequel is in the works! There are two more chapters for this one plus a teaser chapter, and I'll probably continue to post a chapter a week unless I fall prey to temptation and post sooner.

Title of this chapter is from "We Didn't Start The Fire" by Billy Joel. Please do let me know what you think, reviews are the best motivation! And as always, thanks for reading :-)


	9. Chapter Eight: Rock Your Soul

**_A/N: _**Here there be smut. It's my first time writing that, so please let me know if it's terrible!

* * *

**_Chapter Eight: Rock Your Soul_**

They took the stairs in silence, hands clasped loosely between them. When they reached Kurt's bedroom he dropped Blaine's hand and went to stand awkwardly by the bed, staring at nothing in particular as he internally panicked. He barely registered the soft bang and click as Blaine closed the door and set the lock.

Strong arms wrapped around his body, pulling his back flush to Blaine's chest as warm lips teased at his neck. "Hey, what's wrong?" Blaine asked softly against his ear.

Kurt blinked, his mind coming back to the here-and-now. "N-nothing," he stuttered, startled by the rough, uncertain sound of his own voice. "What could be wrong?"

"Babe, you're shaking."

"Really?" he said, trying to sound casually surprised. "It's probably just the cold…" he trailed off and stopped when Blaine spun him around sharply in his arms. And then there were hazel eyes peering into his, endlessly deep and warm with concern.

"It isn't cold in here. Stop lying to me, please. This is us. Tell me what you feel," Blaine pleaded.

Kurt knew in his heart that it was safe to do just that, but he still felt small. "I'm – I'm just nervous, I guess."

"Oh, Kurt," Blaine sighed, trailing his fingers lightly down the taller man's face. "There's absolutely no need for that."

"I just… I don't know anything about this stuff. Not at all. I don't know what you learned or heard at Dalton, but there's no information to be found here _at all_ about how people like us bond. If I know anything, it's a lucky guess or a logical assumption." He paused, looking away from Blaine as heat flared across his face. "It's just so embarrassing. You shouldn't have to put up with this, with me."

"Kurt, no," Blaine said quickly, reaching out to tilt the other man's chin until their eyes met once more. "Yes, I do know more about this than you do… but that's not your fault, and it's probably a good thing that at least one of us does. We'll figure this out together."

Kurt merely nodded a little, burying his face in Blaine's shoulder and clinging to him. Blaine was his, and Blaine felt safe. He would have to trust that.

He pulled back after a long moment, meeting Blaine's eyes. "So where do we start?"

Blaine chuckled a little before leaning forward, stopping with his lips so close to Kurt's that he could feel Blaine's warm breath, and it made him shiver. "How about like this?"

By now, Kurt and Blaine had kissed many times, but Kurt knew in an instant that this kiss was different from all the rest. Those kisses had been wonderful and always full of promise, but _this_ kiss… it felt like a promise being kept.

Without thinking, he closed the last of the distance between their bodies. When there was none left, the pressure between them built and built until they were moving, the sudden fall onto Kurt's bed causing them to finally break apart, both panting to catch their breath.

It was only when Kurt could breathe again that he became aware of Blaine's state of arousal, and the thick heat pressing up against his thigh made him blush all over again even as he shifted back and forth against it.

"Blaine…" he said a little shakily.

Blaine grinned at him and moved a hand down to cup Kurt through his jeans, and Kurt's breath hitched audibly in his throat. "Kurt," Blaine responded audaciously. "I'm a virgin, too, but it will amuse me to no end if the main lesson I get out of this tonight is finding out exactly how red your face can get."

And of course that only made Kurt blush even more; he could feel it.

"Yeah, kind of like that!" Blaine teased.

"You know what I think? I think you're just using humor as a ruse for your own nervousness, Blaine," Kurt shot back.

Blaine looked like he was considering this. "Perhaps." He slid his hand up and across Kurt's stomach, reaching to the small of his back and pulling the other man tightly up against him. "Or perhaps I just think it's really hot to see you blush."

Kurt tried to muster up some confidence, hoping it would keep the oncoming wave of heat from showing on his face. "I hate you," he announced before roughly grabbing Blaine's head and dragging him into another kiss.

"Can't have that," Blaine mumbled as he broke away from Kurt's lips. He trailed tiny kisses down Kurt's neck and then left him altogether, pulling back to look into his eyes. "Seriously though, Kurt. I love you. Sharing all of this with you is so, so special to me, and I want you to know that."

Kurt nodded, tears glistening in his eyes. "I love you, too. I never thought I'd have you, Blaine. This is just… it's so much. And a little overwhelming."

Blaine smiled at him. "In a good way?"

"In a good way."

Blaine's hand moved soothingly up and down his thigh. "So how do you want to do this?"

Kurt blushed again, but this time Blaine didn't bate him for it. "What ways _can_ we do this?"

"Assuming you want to fully bond…" he paused until he saw Kurt nod in agreement. "Well, there are two main options then. You can… well, it's generally called 'topping' or 'bottoming'…" he broke off again, growling in frustration. "I wish there was a more romantic way to explain this!"

"It's ok…" Kurt assured him quietly. "There may be zero sources of information on gay sex available here, but when I tried to do research… normal couples have anal sex, too, I guess. After I stumbled upon that, well, I've had a lot of time to ponder these things and I didn't know but I kind of… assumed. So I can guess well enough what those terms refer to."

Blaine looked relieved. "Please don't refer to heterosexual couples as 'normal' again, Kurt. I understand why you automatically think that way, but there's nothing that's not normal about us."

"Wow, no, Blaine, I'm sorry! I didn't mean it to sound that way."

"I know," Blaine quickly reassured, cupping Kurt's face in his hands and kissing his forehead. "It just makes me sad to know that you think it. So… preferences? I don't mean to push…"

"We really need to stop tiptoeing around each other," Kurt said frankly. "But… about that. I'd like to try both, eventually, but maybe for tonight you could be the one to…" he felt his face flush and had force himself not to look away from Blaine's eyes. "I really need you inside of me. I need _you_."

Blaine drew in a sharp breath. "Ok," he said, grabbing Kurt's hand and squeezing it. "That's… fantastic, if that's what you want. We don't have to rush anything! We can start with something else…"

Kurt smiled below him, bringing one arm up to snake around Blaine's neck, his other hand splayed against his chest. "Let's just go back to this, and see where it gets us." He pulled Blaine down into a gentle kiss, pleased that his words had sounded much more confident than he felt.

He let Blaine take control of the kiss easily, feeling a little needy and whimpering as their tongues met. The heat and solidarity of Blaine's body above him was intoxicating, and without really meaning to Kurt's hands crept down and then up, up under Blaine's shirt, ghosting over warm skin and smooth lines of muscle.

Blaine broke the kiss, panting, and Kurt stole the opportunity to pull at Blaine's shirt until he got the message and helped Kurt to drag it over his head, leaving his chest bare to Kurt's curious eyes and wandering hands.

Kurt took him in for a moment, a bit mesmerized with how different Blaine was from himself. He realized, suddenly, that he had never before seen another man in any state of undress, not even his father. Blaine had a light sprinkling of dark hair on his chest and trailing down his stomach, which Kurt hesitantly reached out to touch. It was soft, not what he was expecting, and without thinking he leaned forward to nuzzle his face into Blaine's chest and pepper the area with kisses.

A laugh from above him brought Kurt back to himself, and he blushed. "It's ok, Kurt," Blaine said after seeing his expression. "That just tickles." He trailed his fingers lightly down Kurt's own chest as if to prove his point, causing Kurt to shiver. "Time for you to lose your shirt, too."

Kurt nodded, though well aware that his face was still red, and sat up to pull the fabric away from his body, unable to meet Blaine's eyes and struggling not to wrap his arms around himself the moment his shirt was gone. _This is Blaine_, he told himself firmly. Surprisingly, the thought did a lot to calm his nerves.

That was all the thinking he managed before Blaine's body once again covered his own, his mouth trailing hotly down Kurt's throat and lower, tonguing as he went and gripping at Kurt's ribs. Suddenly, Kurt was painfully aware of his own arousal, straining against his pants and throbbing in a way that brought Kurt sharply back to the first day they met. He bucked his hips up on instinct, moaning when he felt Blaine's own arousal grinding down into him in response.

The last traces of his nervousness and embarrassment were gone, replaced in a moment by sheer need. "Can we take these off now?" he asked a little desperately, surprised at the roughness of his own voice.

Blaine didn't answer, instead reaching to pop free the button on Kurt's pants and help to tug them down and off his legs before quickly doing away with his own.

With nothing but the thinnest of fabrics remaining between them, Kurt found that moving against Blaine felt even better. He gave in to the feeling without much thought, rutting shamelessly until Blaine's hands met and steadied his hips.

"Woah there… I thought we wanted to get farther than that tonight?"

Kurt blushed (and wow, he had thought—or hoped—that he was done with that for the time being.) "Sorry, got a little carried away."

Blaine smiled and brought his forehead down to rest against Kurt's. "I can honestly say I _completely _understand." As he spoke, the hand on Kurt's hip was inching over slowly, until it was suddenly and unbearably cupping and stroking him through the cotton, creeping down lower to tease Kurt's balls. "I'm going to take these off now," Blaine informed him plainly, eyes pinning him with their intensity.

"Ok," Kurt whispered.

He didn't look down as Blaine carefully stripped his last barrier away, only shifting slightly to help him out.

When he was naked, Blaine pulled away from him, leaving Kurt lying haplessly across the bed, exposed and shivering with something he wasn't certain was the cold. He fought the urge to cover himself as Blaine's eyes raked slowly up and down his body, choosing instead to watch as Blaine watched him.

Finally, Blaine met his eyes once more. "You are absolutely stunning," he said, voice earnest but broken.

Kurt didn't know what to say to that, so instead he lifted his arms in invitation, tugging Blaine back and burrowing under him eagerly. It wasn't a simple task, since Blaine was a couple inches shorter than himself, but Kurt just needed to be _held_.

"I love you," he whispered into Blaine's neck.

Blaine sighed, kissing his hair and then his forehead and holding him tighter.

When Kurt felt ready, he pushed Blaine back and crawled onto his knees, laying his hand at the waist of Blaine's boxers and looking at him questioningly.

"Go ahead," Blaine said softly.

It felt clumsy and awkward removing Blaine's underwear, and once that was through all he could do was stare. Blaine lay back, folding his hands behind his head and smiling slightly as he watched Kurt.

"Like what you see?"

Kurt realized with a start that while Blaine had been putting significant effort into easing his insecurities, he probably had a few of his own that he was carefully hiding. Crawling up the mattress, he leaned down to kiss Blaine, attempting to convey all that he was feeling through his lips. He was delighted when he heard Blaine moan and felt the other man's arms around him, pulling him down further.

"You're perfect, Blaine," he said when they finally broke apart. "How can you not be when you were made for me?"

"How do you know it isn't the other way around? Maybe you were made for me!"

"I'm older," Kurt pointed out. "But I think it goes both ways."

Blaine said nothing, but his eyes were searching Kurt's. "Touch me," he pleaded, abruptly ending their banter.

As Kurt obliged, trailing his fingers over all of Blaine before tentatively taking him in hand, he tried to clear his head of the last of his nerves, focusing completely on the beautiful man lying next to him. Everything about Blaine was heady, and he found it easy and natural to slip into a world consisting of only the taste of Blaine's lips, the softness of his skin, the warmth of his embrace.

Without meaning too, he was fisting Blaine a little tighter, a hair faster, sliding in closer to grind rhythmically into Blaine hips, their lips sealed together and his free hand tangled hopelessly in Blaine's curls. It was a shock to his senses when Blaine suddenly pulled back, breathing heavier than Kurt had heard him before, looking into Kurt's eyes with pure awe and desire.

"Lube," he said. "Please tell me you have lube!"

Kurt crawled away from him, fumbling in his nightstand for the half-empty tube he knew was there and tossing it to Blaine.

Blaine caught it with one hand, the other smoothing over Kurt's buttocks and then unexpectedly sliding down and in between, causing Kurt to shiver and jump a little.

"How… how do you want me?" he managed brokenly.

"I really don't know what would be the most comfortable, but… I would like to see you? If that's ok?"

"Please." Kurt responded, understanding as he said it that he was asking for more than one thing.

He shifted around until he felt comfortable on the bed, Blaine pulling a spare pillow from behind him and moving to slide it under Kurt's hips.

Blaine crawled forward, arms braced on either side of Kurt, and kissed him softly once again. "I love you," he said after he'd pulled back, nuzzling into Kurt's face.

"I love you too, so much."

Sitting back on his knees, Blaine grabbed the lube and squeezed a generous amount on his fingers, suddenly looking nervous.

"It's ok," Kurt reassured. "I won't break."

Nodding once but still looking unsure, Blaine reached down and gently brushed his wet fingers over Kurt's hole.

Kurt jumped because that was _cold_.

"Sorry, sorry, I should have thought to warm it first!"

"It's ok," Kurt repeated. "It's better already."

He could feel a little stretch as Blaine slowly worked the first finger inside, moving carefully in and out. It didn't necessarily feel _good_ yet, but Kurt hadn't expected much and was mostly relieved that it didn't hurt.

"That's… not so bad. Try another?"

The second finger _did_ hurt for a few moments, but the sensation quickly faded, replaced with occasional small sparks of pleasure that made Kurt squirm, trying to find a way to make it more.

"Blaine… could you?" but he was already changing the angle, wriggling and crooking until…

"More, please more," and Kurt didn't know what he was saying, didn't know that he was begging or he might feel ashamed. There were sharp spikes of pain as Blaine slid in a third finger, but as jarring as they were Kurt found that he didn't care, taking it alongside the pleasure until it suddenly wasn't so bad, anymore.

"Kurt…" his name startled Kurt out of his pleasure-filled haze, and his eyes shot open (when had he closed them?) to find Blaine staring down at him, his gaze heavy with lust and his free hand wrapped tightly around the base of his cock. "Are you… do you think you're ready?"

Kurt nodded and felt Blaine pull his hand free, leaving him feeling horribly empty.

Blaine got some more lube, spreading it over himself and wiping a little more on Kurt for good measure. As he lined himself up, Kurt's hand shot out and grabbed his wrist.

"Blaine," he said heavily. "You're… you're going to be _inside_ me."

Freeing his wrist, Blaine grabbed Kurt's hand, intertwining their fingers and squeezing tight. "I know, Kurt. I know."

Pulling away to align the head at Kurt's entrance, Blaine slid up Kurt's body, cradling his face and kissing him deeply as he pushed inside.

The initial stretch was painful even though Kurt knew they'd prepared as well as they could, and he bit back a cry, gripping Blaine's shoulders tightly as the other man bottomed out, then stilled.

Blaine kissed Kurt's forehead, both his eyes. "You ok?"

Kurt nodded, eyes squeezed shut and breathing deeply while Blaine waited and watched him with concern. After a while, the pain began to lesson a little. He still felt uncomfortable but had now relaxed enough for the awareness of _Blaine_ to seep through him, and took another moment to relish the thought, squeezing his muscles experimentally and savoring the gasp of pleasure Blaine couldn't hold back in response.

He opened his eyes, blinking and meeting Blaine's. "Move," he breathed.

And so Blaine did, slowly at first, kissing his face and lips and neck with every even thrust. When it began to feel good, Kurt clutched at Blaine's ass, encouraging him to shift until he found the perfect angle. It took a few minutes, but when they found it Kurt's surprised _squeak_ (and how embarrassing was that!) gave it away. Blaine grinned, continuing with a bit more confidence as Kurt's nails began to rake down his back.

They sped up without really intending too, Kurt's hips rising now to meet Blaine's as he pulled the other man down into a desperate kiss.

"Blaine," he whined helplessly against his lips, hoping he was conveying everything he needed to, which at the moment was predominately _yes, more, _and _close!_

"Kurt," Blaine growled back. "Gonna come soon."

"Yeah," Kurt replied, deliberately pushing up harder.

Blaine kissed his lips one more time and grazed his teeth across Kurt's neck, biting down just a little as his hips picked up speed. Kurt managed to wait for the moment Blaine pulled away enough to meet his eyes, and he let go.

Kurt had come before, of course. He had been masturbating since about the age of twelve, always forcing away any fantasies that had popped into his head because he knew that they would never come true, and instead treating getting off as a routine—something that was necessary, but was to be gotten over with as quickly as possible. That had changed, of course, when Blaine came into his life. Allowing himself to think and imagine sexual things with Blaine—even if he wasn't entirely certain what those things should be—had heightened his experiences considerably. But nothing his mind had conjured up in the past had remotely prepared him for _this_.

The moment, when it came, was a complete depart from consciousness. He could still see Blaine, was aware of the intensity of the other man's lust and adoration for him as Blaine watched him climax for the first time. He could hear Blaine cry out his name as he found his own peak, and he knew on an entirely new level that Blaine was completely his now, was tethered to Kurt in a way that was impossible to surmount. Everything else, however, had fallen away. It was as though they had entered together some new plane of reality which consisted entirely of pleasure and rightness and belonging such that Kurt had never before experienced.

Eventually, the pleasure began to fade away as other feelings seeped into Kurt's awareness: the soft cotton, now damp with sweat, against his back. The periwinkle blue of his walls and ceiling. The air around them, which felt thick and suddenly cold, causing Kurt to pull Blaine impossibly tighter against his body.

"Wow," Blaine spoke first, smoothing back the hair that had fallen haphazardly across Kurt's sweaty face. "I'd heard about that before, of course, but to actually experience it…"

"Is that something that will happen everytime?" Kurt found his voice. "Or is it just because it was our first time bonding?"

"It varies in intensity, from what I've heard, but yes to the first." He frowned. "I hate to do this, babe, but I really think I need to pull out now."

When Blaine did so it proved unpleasant on more than one level, and Kurt winced at the sting. "You'll be sore tomorrow," Blaine cautioned as he reached for some tissues beside the bed. "Do you want to shower, or…"

"Sleep," Kurt mumbled, missing Blaine's warmth while he cleaned them. "I can't remember the last time I felt this tired."

Blaine smiled, tossing the last tissue in the trash and folding the covers down on the bed before settling under them. "That's the bonding." He tilted his head, eyes pleading. "Come here and hold me?"

Ignoring his discomfort, Kurt crawled across the sheets and eagerly snuggled up against Blaine. "Always," he answered, returning Blaine's smile.

They had forgotten to turn off the lamp, but even so, both men slept that night more soundly than ever before.

* * *

_**A/N: **_Title is from a song by Elisa. One more chapter left guys, plus the teaser! Thank you for reading and please review, I was pretty nervous about this one!


	10. Chapter Nine: Brand New Colony

**_A/N: _**Well, ladies and gentleman, we have at last reached the final chapter! Ok, so technically there's one more - but that's more of a segue into the sequel and is very short. I plan to post it within the next few days, and MSCR will be complete! I have started on the sequel (which will be called "As Men Strive for Right") but it will probably be a while before I begin to post it.

For now, enjoy this chapter - the title of which is taken from a song by the Postal Service. Please let me know what you think!

**_Chapter Nine: Brand New Colony_**

The next morning Kurt was jolted awake by his father's knock at the door, warning them that they better get ready and head out, the sooner the better. It was an unwelcome intrusion to the new warmth and weight of Blaine's body twisted around and beneath and over him, and while Blaine was alert in an instant, Kurt took a moment to convince himself of why, exactly, getting up now was not only worth it, but absolutely compulsory.

Showering together for the first time was a precarious balancing act between exploring each other and saving time, but in ten minutes it was over and they were both significantly cleaner and even more in sync. Kurt sped through his usual morning moisturizing routine ("I skipped last night, Blaine, do you even _know_ what that did to my skin?!") while Blaine siphoned threw his wardrobe, grabbing a few things here and that might fit well enoughto get him through the next few days. Kurt had, of course, already packed, rightly realizing that it would take him forever to determine which of his precious clothes were best left behind.

He fought the compulsion to make the bed. Why bother when he would never be returning here, anyways? The thought stung, but Kurt forced it down. Instead he smiled, took Blaine's hand. Together, they made their way downstairs.

Kurt dropped his bag by the door, following his nose into the kitchen, where his dad had platters of eggs and bacon waiting. A basket full of muffins and fresh fruit sat in the center of the table.

"What's all this? Since when can you cook?"

Burt didn't meet his eyes, but gestured for the boys to seat themselves at the table. "Eggs and bacon are simple enough, Kurt, I've seen you do it enough times. And the muffins are from the market down the street."

"Thank you, Burt," Blaine said politely, pulling up a chair.

Kurt studied his father, neither man moving, before doing the same.

They ate in silence save for a few compliments to the chef—mostly from Blaine—and sat there awkwardly once the food was gone in spite of the urge to _rush, hurry, get out_ that was repeating like a mantra in Kurt's head.

"Well," Burt said finally, plopping his napkin down on his plate. "Best get going."

"Dad…" Kurt looked up at him, voice shaky and tears in his eyes. "At least let us help with the dishes!"

Burt looked carefully from Kurt to Blaine and back again. "No need for that, kiddo," he said at last. "There's no reason not to just leave them here. If you'll have me, that is… I'd like to come with you."

The tears that were now streaming down Kurt's cheeks couldn't be good for his skin, and they were certainly in contrast with his sudden smile, but he couldn't have cared less. Nothing could stop them in that moment, just as there was no force on earth that could keep him from flying into his father's arms.

"Please, daddy. I didn't know how to say goodbye. But… what about the shop? The house? All our memories of mom are here, and I couldn't ask you to…"

"The shop is nothing more than a building with fancy equipment and stacks of legal paperwork, Kurt. I've left a letter for the boys; they can run it without me. And yeah, it hurts to leave our home… but my best memory of your mom has always been _you_. You're all I have that matters, when it comes down to it."

Kurt pulled back finally, wiping at his cheeks. "Blaine?" he turned to look at the other man.

"Don't even pretend like you need to ask me, Kurt. I would _never_ try to keep the two of you apart."

Kurt moved to him, smiling and kissing him wetly, before taking his hand and holding his other out towards his father. "Ok, then," he said resolutely. "Let's go."

* * *

It was about a two-day drive, as Blaine had earlier informed them. The first day was surprisingly and blessedly uneventful. They had stopped once for fast food, Burt running in while Kurt and Blaine slunk low, hidden, in their car seats. Twice they had pulled over to a secluded area to take care of necessities, much to Kurt's disgust and Blaine's amusement.

It was an enjoyable trip at first, for the most part. The boys sang along to the radio for a few hours until the news came on and Blaine's name came on the news and Burt switched it off, and it stayed that way.

At nearly two am, Blaine was fighting to keep his eyes open and focused on the road, having been driving since dark. Kurt's own were drooping closed, and Burt was snoring in the back seat. They had been on the road since six am.

When Blaine pulled over into the parking lot of a sleazy, out-of-the-way motel, no one was awake enough to protest.

Burt waved off Blaine's apologies and promises to pay him back once they reached The Olde World, but did compromise in requesting one room with two double beds. Given that both boys were already half-asleep, Blaine slumped in Kurt's arms to the extent that the taller man was practically carrying him, Burt seemed to realize that it was unlikely they had anything in mind but sleep.

It was Kurt that woke first the next morning, the alarm that was always set on his watch cutting harshly through his haze of sleep at precisely 7:30. He shut it off quickly and found the others still asleep. Even as he cursed the lateness of the hour, he took a moment to study Blaine and relish the feeling of the other man's body against his. Blaine was drooling, head on Kurt's shoulder and the material of his shirt twisted in one fisted hand. He was also hot and hard, rutting a little into Kurt's hip, and Kurt stole a guilty glance over at his father's sleeping figure as he reached down to adjust himself.

Once Kurt felt calm enough he sighed, kissing Blaine awake and admiring the way his long, dark lashes parted slowly to reveal sleepy hazel eyes. He slipped out of bed and walked over to wake his father.

Burt showered first—five minutes—before excusing himself to grab them some food from the continental breakfast and ready the car.

When Kurt stepped into the shower with Blaine for the second time, it was with every intention of washing even more hastily than the day before. Blaine clearly had other ideas, sinking to his knees on the hard plastic floor and gripping Kurt's hips roughly as his mouth sank around Kurt's cock.

Kurt's own mouth opened in an 'oh' that went unsaid, and his fingers tangled through Blaine's hair as he tried to keep his balance, mind screaming in protest because _time _until he forgot how to think. Forgot everything, it seemed, save for Blaine's name.

It was all over quickly, of course, Blaine on his feet and kissing him and moving against him and coming even as Kurt licked and tasted his own cum on Blaine's tongue and Blaine reached for the shampoo bottle, lathering Kurt's hair. And Kurt didn't know how to feel because it was amazing at the same time Blaine's multitasking was amazing and there was no time or thought left to process it and Blaine was toweling him dry when Kurt finally found words.

"I love you," he whispered, watching Blaine zip up his jeans from across the room.

Blaine just smiled at him and that was amazing, too.

* * *

They clutched their bags and not each other as they made their way down to the lobby, Kurt still dazed from all that had happened in just the last half-hour, when Blaine suddenly froze in front of him. There was a blonde girl at the front desk, and Kurt couldn't decide from her profile if she was pretty or not because while her features were certainly nice to look at, there was something about her that just screamed to Kurt that this was _not_ a good person. He didn't have time to rightfully decide, because Blaine was grabbing his arm and yanking him back behind the vending machine and she was hidden from his view. Kurt looked at him in alarm but stayed silent.

"That's Kitty," Blaine whispered in his ear. "She's one of Sue's moles, I've seen her before. This is—shit! This is not good."

"How did she find us?" Kurt asked a little too loudly, forgetting himself until Blaine glared.

"It doesn't matter. We need to get out of here fast, and she can't see us. She'd recognize me, probably you, too, if Sue's been thorough. And Sue is _always_ thorough. Come on."

Blaine led them back the way they came, through the hallway and out a side entrance that was thankfully near their car.

"Burt!" he called, hurrying up to the man who was forcing an ungodly stash of poptarts into a backpack in the trunk. "We've been found out. I need you to go, drop off the key and meet us by the front door. Do _not_ answer any questions."

Burt looked like he was about to demand an explanation, but a look from Kurt quieted him, and he took the key wordlessly and headed for the lobby.

Blaine turned to Kurt. "You're driving. I'll be in the back."

* * *

Waiting for Burt to walk through the door seemed to take hours, when Kurt knew in reality it was a matter of minutes. He was worried about too many things, grateful now that his dad had insisted on bringing containers of gasoline and had apparently filled up the tank just this morning, and it was all far too overwhelming right now and Kurt Hummel did _not_ wear overwhelming well.

He jumped when the passenger door flung open, Burt throwing himself onto the seat and urging him to drive.

"They know that Kurt's with you," Burt confirmed Blaine's earlier fear. "I didn't say anything, but that damned lady behind the counter just had to wish me a 'nice day, Mr. Hummel' and that girl there smiled like it was Christmas as soon as she heard the name."

"They're following us!" Kurt broke in, warily eying the sleek black car at his tail through the mirror.

"Kurt, have you ever participated in a high speed car chase?" Blaine asked from the back seat.

"No!" Burt and Kurt responded together.

"Well," Blaine said, almost conversationally. "They say there's a first time for everything."

Kurt was already pressing hard on the gas.

* * *

The chase lasted a full hour before Kurt finally lost them, his adrenaline rush long faded and utter exhaustion taking its place. He drove on for another hour to be certain until Burt and Blaine both insisted that someone else take a turn, and so they stopped just briefly enough for Burt to take the wheel.

Even now they were on edge, a new tension in the air holding all three men in nervous silence for quite some time.

"We may not be able to see them, but they can't be far behind us," Blaine finally cautioned. "They will find us again if we don't keep moving."

Kurt crawled into the back seat with Blaine, curling up next to him. "We'll make it," he said, sounding as though he wanted to reassure himself.

Blaine dropped a kiss onto his forehead. "We'll make it," he answered certainly.

Burt drove for several more hours, and the sun was just beginning to set when Blaine perked up.

"I think we're getting close," he said, peering out the window. "This looks familiar to me."

He took the wheel, but it was another hour and a half before they seemed to be driving into nothing, the road closing in impossibly, nearly swallowed by trees. And then, out of nowhere, a clearing.

It was about two-hundred meters in front of the car, stretched as far as the eye could see above Kurt and to either side of him. It shimmered yellow, then purple, then pink then blue and he couldn't see anything beyond it, and yet it was translucent.

Blaine was smiling. "This," he said pointedly. "Is the barrier."

Kurt climbed out of the car in a bit of a daze, staring at it, dully noting that his father appeared equally transfixed.

"Now, remember what I've told you," Blaine was saying as they gathered their bags. "The force of it is gonna knock you out for a little while, and you might not feel it but be prepared. Clear your minds of any negative thoughts—the barrier is guarded against impure intentions. But I'm sure we'll be fine."

"Where are the guards?" Kurt asked, suddenly realizing how strange it was that there was no one in sight.

"There are very few, certainly not enough to guard the entire barrier by any means. There's no need to, really. Most of the people here in The New World are content enough with their lives and are scared off by rumors, and the people of The Olde World are protected by the "pure intentions" thing and have no desire to cross over themselves. Although it is a bit trickier to come through the other way."

Kurt was only half-listening, still in awe of the barrier itself, while Burt was looking at Blaine and nodding.

"So," Blaine said loudly, snaring Kurt's full attention. "Are you ready? We should probably hurry."

Kurt looked over at Burt, expression uncertain, and took a deep breath. His father met his eyes and nodded. He looked back to Blaine, who was holding out his hand.

"I'm ready," he said confidently, taking Blaine's hand in his and squeezing it.

As the three approached the barrier, Kurt finally let the hope and contentment he'd been staving off settle through him and couldn't help the grin he felt stretching across his face. He had Blaine now, his _soulmate_, and he still had his father. He had the promise of a new life, one of freedom and of more love than he had ever hoped to enjoy, waiting for him just ahead. It was all that he had ever wanted and far more than he had schooled himself to need.

Blaine's hand was warm in his, his smile reassuring as they together stepped into the barrier—their first step into the beautiful future that lay just beyond.


	11. Teaser Chapter: In The End

**_Teaser Chapter: In the End_**

The world was dark and empty, but there was buzzing, so much buzzing. He tried to reach out in the darkness towards the sound, but found nothing. Then his fingers clasped something warm, solid, and he tried to pull back but it was holding him now and it wouldn't let go…

He whined, scared and helpless and alone. The buzzing seemed to intensify. He tried to pull his arms up to cover his ears but they were heavy now, and something was still holding onto his hand.

But then the buzzing was sharpening, and it almost sounded like words. If he could only clear his head enough to focus for a moment…

"... get his dad and tell him he's waking up…" a voice was saying. Then he heard his name. "Kurt, Kurt," over and over and over again.

The voice was kind but unfamiliar. Kurt struggled to open his eyes, and when he finally managed he shut them again almost immediately because the sudden influx of light was too much to bear.

After long moments of blinking fiercely, the world finally began to slide into place. He could see now that a pretty Asian woman was sitting beside him on a bed in a room he didn't recognize. She had his hand clasped in one of her own, and with her other she was smoothing back the hair from his forehead.

"What? Where… who are you?" The words felt heavy and forced. He swallowed and mentally grimaced at the foul taste in his mouth as his mind scrambled for any detail that might clue him in as to what was going on.

"I'm Tina," the woman answered, smiling down at him sadly.

"Tina…" he tried, undecided as to what to ask next.

A man appeared in the doorway before he could speak again, tall and slender and clearly of Asian descent as well. "Burt's on his way," he said to Tina, before stepping closer to the bed.

He peered down at Kurt, his expression serious and impossible to decipher. "Hey there," he finally said. "My name is Mike. It's good to see that you're awake."

"My dad's here?" Kurt asked, still confused.

"He woke up two days ago," Tina answered. "He's been worried that you've been out so long, but we told him it was normal since you've been separated from…"

"Tina!" Mike broke in harshly, cutting her off with a glare.

"Whoops! Sorry," Tina cringed a little as she caught on to her mistake.

The haze was beginning to lift now, Kurt's mind rapidly filling in the blanks of his memory. The prison, the journey, the barrier… crossing the barrier with…

"Blaine!" His eyes scanned the small room frantically, taking in the open window, oversized furniture, a vase of flowers on the dresser and Mike and Tina's worried expressions. His surroundings were comfortable, but Kurt took no comfort in them as he failed to find the merest hint of the person he sought. "Where's Blaine?" he demanded, feeling a little lost.

Mike and Tina exchanged a glance before together turning back to him. He felt Tina squeeze his hand, but it was Mike who finally spoke. "He didn't come across the barrier with you. We have our suspicions, but we aren't certain why. We went looking for him, but…" The Asian man's eyes dropped down and his shoulders slumped.

"There was no one there, Kurt," Tina spoke softly, her sad brown eyes meeting his. "Blaine is missing."

* * *

**_A/N:_** Well, folks, there you have it - the end of "My Soul Can Reach" though clearly not the end of the story.

I'd like to thank you all for sticking with me through this, reading and reviewing and favoriting and following. Your kindness is my inspiration, and I truly appreciate each and every one of you.

As I've said before, I'm currently in the process of writing the sequel "As Men Strive for Right." I'm not sure yet when I will start posting, but I look forward to taking that journey with you as well :-)

The title of this chapter is from Linkin Park's song "In The End". Please let me know what you think!


	12. Sequel

For those of you who missed it - the sequel to My Soul Can Reach is currently being posted. It's still WIP, but check out my profile page to read As Men Strive For Right.

Thank you!


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